New Kid Stories S1-E5: Mutual Cat Daddies
by JustCallMeButtLord
Summary: There's a cat burgler in South Park! When Mister Kitty goes missing, Cartman pulls the old Coon costume out of mothballs to track down the cat-napper... and he's dragging The New Kid along for the ride! [Fifth installment of the New Kid series. Rated M for language, violence, vulgar descriptions. Romantic themes include Cis!Female New KidxKenny, Mention of Stendy]
1. A Mall Themed Recap

_**WELCOME READERS!**_

As the title of this story suggests, you have wandered into the fifth installment of my _New Kid Stories,_ stories centered around my Cis!Female New Kid from The Stick of Truth and Fractured But Whole South Park games. If you're a new reader and the idea of this ongoing series peaks your interest, you are welcome to join us at this installment or go back and read them in their entirety- I do my best to pen these things so a curious reader can pick up anywhere and _basically_ get what's going on... but, like all serial fiction, there's a lot of fine details to be found in reading everything.

For my regular readers who are returning, **good to have you with us. Glad I haven't scared you away, yet.**

As always, it's time to post my caveat for these stories. _**The New Kid Stories**_ **are my just-for-fun writing project, and while I have since caught up with the entirety of South Park I'm still not going to look up and double check every little thing when I'm writing these stories for pleasure. If I fucked up some detail from the shows, and that ruins all of this** _ **free content**_ **for you, I would suggest that perhaps you're reading the wrong series of stories.**

 **That said, if you find spelling or grammar errors, I would appreciate being notified of them so I can hunt them down and fix them.**

 **Cool?** _ **Cool.**_

 _ **ONWARDS!**_

 **:: Mutual Cat Daddies – A Mall Themed Recap::**

Despite Thanksgiving being the next major holiday on the calendar, the South Park mall had not taken a single day decorated as such; instead trotting out the Christmas lights immediately after Halloween. It wasn't _critical mass_ of Christmas just yet, but there certainly were not any turkey-day decorations in any shop windows when snowflake motifs and advertisements for Christmas sales were much more eye-catching to the general public... and more likely to get them to spend money. Truly, if Dee bent her brain upon recalling, it would seem that the only stores who had taken it upon themselves to put up decorations for the most fattening of American holidays were grocery stores who were already running specials on spices, stuffing, and birds... despite the day in question being two weeks out just yet.

Well, that and _her own home,_ which her father had begun decorating only moments after he and her mother arrived back at the house from hiding... though the _first_ thing he did was hug the shit out of her, right before mom started grilling her about what she did while the house was devoid of parental units for a whole weekend.

Still, she wasn't at home, she was at the mall- and for once she wasn't all on her lonesome trying to decide what to spend her coin-filled piggy bank on. Dee had arrived as one member of a group, with Kenny at her side and the pair of Stan and Kyle keeping pace as they arrived at the food court. The mall had only opened a few minutes ago, and thus many places were still getting the lights on and lifting their security shutters. The seating area was utterly deserted, which fit the group of four just fine as they queued up at a just-opened taco place, got some early lunch, and descended upon a table to eat and get down to business.

Things hadn't been silent; Dee had simply been tuned out, as she frequently was. Stan and Kyle had been holding a conversation this entire time, with occasional comments by Kenny, but she only came back around to listen as they took their seats and unwrapped their cheap junk food for hasty consumption.

"It's all consumerism, Kyle. The decorations are for what's most profitable." Stan was informing flatly.

"But even the _cashier_ said _happy holidays-_ It's not even December!" Kyle crowed.

" _Dude, the X-mas season has been expanding for years. You haven't noticed?"_ Kenny, with his two cents and a pointed question.

"Yeah, sure I noticed- but it's like they've deleted Thanksgiving entirely from the holiday cycle! What happened to waiting until Black Friday to put all the winter holiday decorations up? And the _sales!_ I saw a store already advertising thirty percent off of everything and calling it a holiday sale! I thought we'd drawn a line as a society _against_ this kind of rampant consumer culture and made room for Thanksgiving as the family holiday that let us be thankful for stuff before we started going crazy with _wanting_ _ **things."**_

"Line drawn in sand, maybe." Stan scoffed, his inner cynic showing as he wolfed into his taco. "We're at a _mall,_ that's like... _the temple of the consumer gods._ Of course they're going to advertise Christmas over Thanksgiving. No one at a mall cares about _being thankful_ or _family time-_ they only use the idea of family to guilt people into buying more stuff. You can't expect any kind of _moral code_ to hold back the season that every executive salivates over when it comes to the bottom line."

" _Yeah, seriously- and most businesses have started skipping food-drive related discounts- no one gives a fuck if people are **giving,** it's all about **spending.** " _Kenny huffed, his own concerns added to the conversation before he unzipped his hood and tugged his scarf down, crunching into a taco that Dee had paid for from her place at the front of the line when they'd grabbed food. "X-mas is like a a holiday themed hooker's vagina- it's so huge it sucks in everything."

" _Dude, gross."_ Kyle groused, disenchantment compounded with Kenny's... _eloquent_ imagery. "Ugh, but you're _right."_

Dee found herself staring on, picking up on a certain level of discouraged exhaustion that was much more customary coming from Stan than it was Kyle- she supposed his family was the most _together_ out of the group; what with his efforts to stay close to his adopted brother and not piss off his parents beyond the 'I don't want to get in trouble' obligations. _Seems like a lot of bother to me._ She mentally murmured. _Thanksgiving has always been more about_ _ **food**_ _than_ _ **family,**_ _but that's kinda how Dad connects with people anyhow... and it's always just been the three of us; moving around your whole life means no local family members... and the government was probably watching any extended family we had in case my parents tried to contact them after escaping._

Now _that_ was an interesting thought. Considering recent work she'd done, what with getting the government off of her ass and getting the US President to kill a time-clone of herself so she'd be officially dead on the record, there was a chance that her parents could reconnect with family members they'd lost touch with after going into hiding. Did she have extended family? Aunts, uncles, grandparents, _cousins?_ If so, where did they live? She didn't know the first thing about it... and considering the story of how she came into the world, did her extended family even know that her parents were together and had a kid?

 _Maybe, the photo of me right after being born did go viral on multiple platforms. I should dig it up, see if they included any personal information, or if any family members identified themselves in the comments. Wendy could help me dredge the data..._

"Oh, jeez, he's spacing out again. _Earth to Dee! Come back to us, cadet!"_

Green eyes fluttered, and Dee dropped out of her thought cloud and felt as if she'd hit the cheap plastic chair with a shock. Bewildered, she stared at Kyle, who had insisted she return to the group. Her taco had disappeared; she'd eaten it while drifting off into her musings.

 _Yes, hi, I am here. What's up?_

"You guys made it seem like it was a big deal that I came with you, today." Kyle pointed out. "Do I get to know the _reason,_ or are you dragging out suspense for a surprise?"

 _Oh, right, that._ Dee's gaze shifted away from Kyle and over to Stan, brow turning flat over her eyes to give him a look. _You're up, champ, you're the one who wanted to tell him._

"Dude, don't gimme that look- you're the one who okayed it." Stan defended himself.

 _Under severe peer pressure. Now say your piece and be done with it._

Under the table, she felt Kenny nudge her. With a begrudging hesitation, she eased off with the glare-power and let out a soft scoff, gesturing a hand towards Kyle that opened the floor to Stan with a more hospitable mood to draw from.

"Guys? What is this all about?" Kyle gained a note of tension, but also _excitement;_ if only because Cartman was nowhere to be seen, so chances of disaster were lower than normal.

"Well- you remember Bebe's party?" Stan asked, looking expectantly over to his friend. "How Dee pulled me an' Wendy aside for something with Bebe?"

"Yeah, you all disappeared into the basement; Cartman started saying some shit about how Bebe was high on the success and wanted to get banged by a bunch of dudes all at once while Wendy watched and/or joined in. He was trying to convince Jimmy to listen at the door, and I started yelling at him. You all came back upstairs just as he was about to charge down there with his phone camera in hopes of getting a candid shot. You said that you had to help Dee explain to Bebe about the whole _mind controlling the president_ thing."

"Yeah- and that is what happened, but... okay, Bebe totally guessed this out of the blue and it took me by surprise but..." Stan paused for effect. "Dee and Kenny. _They're dating_."

Kyle blinked. He stared at Stan, and then looked across the table to where Dee and Kenny had arranged themselves side-by-side. Dee had already braced herself for a number of reactions; anywhere from utter rejection to rejoicing jubilation- the spectrum between her worst fear of getting ostracized from one of the few people she actually liked hanging out with, and her... _discomfort_ with sudden invasions of her space; like when Wendy found out and hugged her without warning. Kenny had responded to this stiffness while Kyle had been looking away, scooting his chair a little closer and reaching across the gap to put his hand on her shoulder; a gloved reminder that he was there with her that she could feel through the layers of her electric blue hoodie and her bulky black winter coat.

Both Stan and Kyle were still under the impression, as they had been for years, that she was a boy. Neither of them shared Cartman's homophobia, but people could exhibit odd behaviors when things they were simply _okay_ with were suddenly directly in their sphere. Stan had accepted the revelation with shock, but ultimately extended his acceptance. She could only hope Kyle was of the same mind... and equally willing to keep the secret.

Under the table, Dee found herself reaching for Kenny in turn, unsure of where to place a comfort-seeking hand and slipping it over his leg, awkward calculation arguing between exactly how close to either knee or crotch was acceptable while also being unaware of how close she'd gotten to the desired location in the middle- she was, after all, groping blindly.

"But... I thought... Kenny, aren't you... y'know, all about the boobies?"

Stan started laughing. "I said the same thing!"

Kenny himself broke into a lop-sided smile, shaking his head at his friends. "All titties are good titties- even manly ones."

Dee couldn't help cracking a smile herself- she'd known Kenny was bi for a while, though it was clear he favored squishy lady bits in general... somewhat evidenced by the fact that he didn't even consider her to be on his romantic radar until _after_ she revealed to him that she was a girl. On the other hand, she'd offered up that little fact out of trust, so maybe _that_ had been the deciding factor of them getting closer? She hadn't actually investigated if he'd been interested before that moment.

 _Fuck knows I was- I just tried to ignore it as hard as I could. Did he have a crush on me, too, and me talking to him just opened the door for us to get closer, gender-reveal not withstanding?_

Kyle still seemed to be catching up, or at least going through some recent memories with new context. " _Damn,_ I shoulda noticed sooner; you guys have been doing _everything_ together since the school year started. What _happened?_ Was it just kinda... you _noticed_ each other all of the sudden? Or have you always had the hots for each other and just didn't move on it until now?"

"Little bit of column A, little bit of column B." Kenny shrugged it off, discounting it as no big deal; an action that made Dee rather thankful. More so was that Kyle was looking to _him_ for answers. Usually she was all about representing herself, but right now? She was content to be the silent shadow while he fielded the questions and explained things. "Dee's not cool with everyone knowing just yet, though, so keep it to yourself? We're telling you because Stan was gonna bust a stress nut if he didn't tell his bestie."

"My therapist says keeping secrets from the people closest to me sabotages my support structures when I need them the most." Stan defended, though it was halfhearted at best. Dee felt that it was a secondary explanation to the fact that it just felt good to tell a friend something that they didn't know- particularly when it _wasn't_ shitty news. "You don't gotta make it sound like I was having a meltdown, dude."

"Who else knows?" Kyle quested.

"Bebe guessed it." Kenny responded while pulling his hood back up, though he left it unzipped and let his scarf sag about his neck. "We told Butters. Wendy found out by accident. And then there's you guys- that's everyone."

 _Butters._ Butters was the first to find out, in fact, and had been their biggest ally in hanging out together without _looking_ like a couple. He'd been their third wheel whenever they wanted to go somewhere or do something in public. Outside of Kenny, she'd easily name him as her best friend.

" _Shit,_ speaking of Butters, isn't he getting out of the hospital tomorrow?" Stan asked. "Wendy wanted to get him a coming home present, but I have no idea what to buy for him."

"That's right." Kenny confirmed. "And that's actually the reason we wanted to meet here. Did you hear about Butters's hamster?"

"His _hamster?"_ Kyle shook his head no, and Stan looked equally clueless. She didn't blame either of them. With everything that happened that night, one furry casualty could easily slip through the cracks of what information was deemed important enough to pass on from the crime scene that had been the Stotchs' house.

" _Agent_ _Frodo_ killed it- crushed it with his bare hand. Butters saw the whole thing." Kenny drawled, though his face had more anguish than his sarcastic tone might have given away. Watching a government agent, even a midget, kill a beloved pet in such a manner must have been a fucked up sight to see. "Dee feels kinda responsible for the whole thing, so he thought we'd go to the pet shop and buy a new hamster as a gift for him; so the cage isn't standing empty as a shitty reminder of all the hell that went down."

 _I don't **feel** responsible, I **am** responsible. _Dee gave Kenny a _look,_ but he either brushed it off or didn't notice. _If I hadn't broke Agent Russel's brain, he probably wouldn't have escaped police custody in the first place, much less tried to go on a shooting spree... but at lest the fucker's **dead.** For once, trigger-happy SPPD saves the cock-sucking day. _

"Dude, you couldn't have known that was gonna happen."

Dee blinked- that wasn't Kenny telling her to calm the fuck down with the self guilt bullshit; it was _Kyle._ His expression had tightened up, his gaze serious as he demanded her attention.

Her frown pushed off to one side, half-forming into a pout. _Maybe not, but this isn't the first time this power has backfired. I still don't know if Cartman has any more lasting damage to his braincase from when I screamed at him._

"Kyle's right, man." Stan pitched in as Dee dug her pity-party heels in. "You've got _legit_ super powers, and you figured out you could influence people offline, what, a _month_ ago? One raging psychopath out of all the experiments you've done so far isn't half bad."

 _Two. Did y'all forget about Cartman kidnapping Wendy and trying to beat her skull in with a baseball bat?_

"Ehhh, call it _one and a half."_ Kenny offered, withdrawing his supportive hand and giving her a punch to the shoulder. "We don't know how much of that crazy was just... y'know, _Cartman."_

She suddenly put her hands up, a gesture that expressed defeat once she was set upon at all sides. _Alright, alright, you guys win. Let's just get moving and go buy a hamster, okay?_

Seats were pushed out, trash was shoved into the nearest bin, with Dee taking the lead with her hands shoved into the kangaroo pocket of her electric blue hoodie, pushing aside the poofy material of her open overcoat and making her shape even bulkier than usual. She still remembered the surprised glances she'd gotten the first day she'd changed for gym, as many of her classmates had assumed she was kinda _fat_ under her ever-present baggy-ass hoodie. Instead, they'd found out she was quite _tiny,_ hardly an imposing silhouette at all once she was dressed down to a T-shirt and gym shorts... and a binder, allowing her to pass.

 _I'm going to have to come out as a girl soon. Wearing a binder during gym isn't good for me, and it hurts when I really dig in._

"How is therapy going, by the way?"

Behind her, the conversation continued on, Kyle asking Stan how his foray in looking after his mental health was faring.

"It's... _interesting."_ Stan reported, somewhat reluctantly. "We've been starting with talk therapy, and CBT- learning how to change the way I think about things, I guess? It's been helpful a couple of times, but..."

"Hey, dude, it's okay." Kyle's tone softened, snapping into support mode. "You just started. It's not gonna change your life overnight."

"Yeah, but my dad's starting to wonder where I'm disappearing to- I haven't told _anyone_ in my family. Mom might get it, but dad doesn't know the difference between a _psychologist,_ a _psychiatrist,_ and a _witch doctor._ And if he throws one of his tantrums? … It'll all be over."

"Just tell 'em you're at my place. I'll cover for you."

"And what if my mom calls your mom?" Stan demanded.

"Tell 'em you're at _my_ place." Kenny sneered, and Dee was fairly certain she heard the sound of fabric sliding together that had to be Kenny putting an arm over Stan's shoulder. "If my mom is even sober enough to answer the phone, she'll just repeat anything I tell her... and if I'm not home, she'll assume we went out. _Boom."_

"You... _you guys."_

Dee suddenly pulled up to a stop, looking back at the trio of trailing boys. She was right about Kenny taking Stan under his arm, looking just about ready to snap the kid into a head-lock and noogie him if he protested all this supportive bromance any harder. Kyle had his hands in his pockets, but he had this smile that looked so _proud_ of Stan for what he'd already do so far in trying to get help. In the middle, Stan was a mixture of _moved_ and _utterly embarrassed,_ chocolate brown eyes dashing away and to the floor to avoid making direct contact with anyone around him.

Sweeping back, Dee turned herself sideways to force herself in between Stan and Kenny, forcing them apart at the shoulders and pushing her back hard against Kenny's ribcage, sending him away and forcing him to regain his balance. In the same motion, she'd pushed Stan up to the front of the pack, rescuing him from all this mushy shit in one go... and also putting him off-balance for a second, his arms windmilling as he hopped on one foot, half-tripped, and got the other one down just in time to catch himself. "Wha- _hey!"_

 _Thank me later, sourpuss._ She smirked, hands returning to her stomach pouch as both Kyle shot her the _was that really necessary?_ look. In her opinion, _yes, yes it was._

A second later, she felt a weight collide with her back, a pair of arms thrown over her shoulders as she found herself giving an unexpected piggy-back ride to Kenny. Feet spread, arms were thrown forward, and she felt his knees dig into his sides as he completely committed to being the monkey on her back... a particularly gangly monkey who was a fair bit _taller_ than her. And yet? Once she got her balance, she rolled with it, scooping her hands up under his shins to help hold him up on her back, all with Stan and Kyle looking on and holding back laughter.

"Mush!" Kenny urged as one would a team of sled-dogs, thrusting his arm out and pointing forward, which was directly at Kyle in this moment.

"Dudes, the pet shop is _this way."_ Stan called out, shoving his hands in his pockets and shaking his head at all the goofery, turning and continuing on himself. Kyle was falling in line behind him.

Kenny quickly re-directed his insistent pointing, finger now stabbing in the correct direction. _"MUSH!"_

A moment later, Dee blew past Stan and Kyle, Kenny laughing manically all the while.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

AND WE ARE BACK!

I wanted to set a lighter tone for this story. Not to say things won't get a touch intense later, but the stakes are not going to be _nearly_ as high as the previous installments. Think of it as a bit of a breather after all the shit that happened last time 'round.

And if you're all wondering about the title... don't worry, all will be revealed in good time. :3

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	2. The Cat Burglar

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – The Cat Burglar::**

Stan mostly knew the pet shop in the mall as that place he could go and watch the kittens in the front window when he didn't wanna go straight home, having rarely actually stepped inside the place... mostly because if he did, he was fairly certain he'd walk out with a new puppy. He had to suppose he was just lucky they didn't show the dogs in the front window as well, else his willpower might have broken down a long time ago. Although he knew why canines weren't kept up front near the door. A pure-bred puppy was much more valuable than most domestic cats; keeping dogs near the front of the shop would just be begging to get robbed. But kittens? Adorable, dime-a-dozen domestic short-hair kittens, napping and playing and goofing about in their glass case near the front of the store with tiny mesh cots and a a small cat tree for them to climb up and down? Well, for as many times as he'd stood outside, watching, there were plenty other people who went inside and bought something. That was just good marketing, and it was fairly low-risk as well.

For a second, he felt as if he should have volunteered to stay outside. Dee and Kenny had already arrived at the open doorway of the store, Kenny waving with enough gusto to knock his hood back as he and Kyle caught up with them. Dee, as always, had a look on his face like he was too cool for that kind of jubilant enthusiasm; hands back in his hoodie pockets and a begrudging, crooked smirk finding home on his face in response to Kenny's antics.

Kyle suddenly rushed by him, picking up to a jog to close the distance and bring the group back together before going in. "Hurry up, dude; let's get this done so we can go hang out."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He complained, a certain lethargy coloring his steps. Days like these came and went, where his enthusiasm ebbed and it felt like everyone else was just moving faster than he was. It was the sort of day where he felt like he would have been better off curled up in bed, even after the buzz of hanging out with his friends and breaking the news to Kyle about a certain secret couple in their midst. One the bright bloom of _color_ from that moment wore off, he found himself back in a predominately gray world.

Oh well, at least everything didn't look like shit anymore. He supposed colorless was a slight improvement over brown.

With the group gathered up at the door, Dee led the way inside like a man on a mission... which he was, Stan supposed, minus the whole _man_ part. Small animals like rodents and reptiles were kept in glass tanks set into shelves that lined the walls of the shop; one side for fuzzy, one side for scaly, with a corner of rather _noisy_ birds just beyond the fuzzy area and before the back area that led to the dog kennels. In-between were shelves of stuff for animals; leashes, food, toys, treats, bedding; even a small section of stuff to decorate fish tanks with, despite this particular store not selling fish. Dee wasted no time veering off to the left, heading straight for fuzz-ville. Kenny watched him go, shrugged off his boyfriend's rather single-minded pursuit of their goal, and wandered off toward the reptiles to check out the snakes.

"You okay, man?"

Stan blinked, glancing to his side to see Kyle hadn't gone anywhere. He was waiting up. "Yeah, I'm good. It's one of _those_ days."

It was like an already agreed-upon signal. Kyle nodded in understanding, well aware what that meant. "Think you're up for a movie after this?"

"Yeah, I think I can handle that."

"Wanna bring Wendy?"

"And make you third-wheel?" Stan shook his head. As glad as he was to have Wendy around, he knew he'd been spending loads of his time with her since they'd gotten back together. Part of today was hanging out with his best friend; he wasn't going to shoehorn his girlfriend in just because he was feeling _off._ "Nah, today's a bro's day. C'mon, let's go see if Kenny found something cool."

"Ma'am, you can't be in here."

Stan and Kyle had been about to step into the reptile aisle, when the raised voice of the store clerk near the door brought their attention around. Another person had entered the shop during this quiet hour at the mall; an elderly woman with a deeply wrinkled face and liver spots. She had thin, whispy white hair and wide glassy eyes. She wore thick glasses, and a knit sweater that may have been a delightful shade of pink some years ago, but had been neglected into a sickly shade of pastel pinkish-gray. Slippers and a ankle-length plaid skirt finished the look.

She was only a step in the door before the store clerk noticed her and called out to her in a firm voice. Stan expected him to maybe come out from behind the counter, but instead he was reaching for his phone.

"Ma'am, I told you last time, if you came back I was going to call the police. You need to leave right now."

The elderly woman did not acknowledge him, instead shuffling herself over to the display case with the kittens. She seemed harmless to Stan; just an old lady who'd wandered into a pet shop to spend some time in a place with living things. Knowing full well the conditions at Shady Acres, he certainly couldn't blame her for wanting to be some place _less depressing_ than an old-folks home... though she looked a little more self-sufficient than the average old person. No walker, and while she may have moved _slow,_ she wasn't so hobbled over that it suggested she spent all of her time sitting. She stood taller than that, more able.

The store clerk, a young man, only _then_ moved from behind the counter, with his cellphone pressed to his ear. He arrived just in time to get between her and the case with the kittens, putting his free arm out to make himself into a blockade.

"Yes? Yes, it's the pet shop, she's back- I've warned her to leave." He said into his phone, apparently connected to the police already. It sounded like this wasn't the first time.

"You'd do well to move, _sonny boy."_

The old woman's voice was soft, like rustling paper. It sounded to Stan like she didn't speak aloud very often, a hushed whisper that instructed the clerk to get out of her way.

"And you'd do best to _get out of my store."_ The clerk rebutted as he stashed his phone away again. "The police are on their way- if you leave now, I won't tell them which way you went. I told you last time you were here, Miss Reynolds, you're on the county ban list- I can't sell you any animals."

"I just want to look." The old woman assured. "There's no harm in looking."

"You said that last time!" The clerk shouted at the woman, remaining still in front of her. "I'm not falling for that again!"

"Hey, what's going on here?" Stan stepped forward, to the side and standing at middle-distance between the arguing parties, Kyle flanking him out of reflex. "She's just an old lady, dude, what kinda harm is she gonna do? She's not allowed to look at some cats?"

"Stay out of this, kid." The clerk snapped tersely. "She's not just a sweet old lady, she's a _menace."_

"Bullshit!" Stan snapped. "Why can't she just look at the cats? What the hell can she do by _looking_ at them? Are you going to deny an elder the simple comfort of just... just... watching a cute animal be cute?"

The old woman turned her gaze, peering at Stan. He realized at this point that the woman's irises were a rather dull gray, and she had something of a _thousand yard stare_ through those thick glasses. They were haunting eyes, the sort that appeared in nightmares, so intense it was hard to believe they were not the work of fancy color contacts. Still, she didn't seem to be utterly blind- dark pupils managed to focus in those pools of shining gray, and her face crinkled into a faint smile.

"Kind boy, sweet boy... you understand."

"Miss Reynolds, the police will be here soon- please, I don't want to watch an old woman get arrested just because you couldn't help yourself." The clerk's tone sounded less mean, more desperate, tension fearing that something bad was about to happen.

The woman, _Miss Reynolds, apparently_ , lost her smile at those words. Behind the store clerk, there was the sound. A metallic _click_ of a lock coming undone. Those horrifying eyes closed, and her deeply creased face resolved into a bitter frown. "... you won't have to."

At first, Stan thought she had accepted the clerk's demands and she was about to leave. She drew herself up, and he was certain she was going to turn around and walk out the door.

Instead, she leapt forward with the speed and force of someone half her age and shoved the clerk into the glass case behind him, which shattered as he fell into it. Stan felt shock as he watched, sharp pieces of glass cutting the man's work shirt and slacks and striking blood along his arms and torso, toys and cat furniture scattering as the enclosure was wrecked. The man himself yelped first in surprise, then swore in pain as he struggled to right himself and simply cut himself on more glass.

Absent was the cry of surprised felines. The enclosure door was open, and the kittens that had previously been within the case, a total of four, were off to the side. As the clerk fell into the glass, all four bolted in the same direction; towards Miss Reynolds.

Stan found himself in shock- how had they gotten out? How had Miss Reynolds been strong enough to shove a full grown man like that? _Why_ would she shove him like that? None of this was computing, and both he and Kyle stood in shock as Miss Reynolds bent slightly, scooped four kittens up into her arms, and turned for the door without a word. With the same speed with which she'd shoved the clerk, she suddenly broke into a run, gone before Stan could kick his confused brain back into gear.

"What the _fuck_ just happened?!"

Kenny's voice, just behind them, summed the scene up fairly well.

* * *

The police arrived shortly after the old woman left, and medical personnel after that. Statements were taken, parents were called, and the day as a whole had been effectively _ruined-_ more-so by the fact that with the clerk needing stitches and the pet shop becoming a crime scene, the place was now _closed._

And here Dee was, lacking a hamster. A hamster for Butters, with which she intended to apologize for all the shitty shit that had happened to him because of her. She had no idea what had happened up at the front of the store as she'd been scoping out possible candidates, and now due to a crazed old woman and some lock-picking kittens, she was stuck waiting for her mom to come pick her up whilst staring dejectedly at the shuttered entryway of the pet store.

"Dude, it didn't make any _sense._ It's like she was just _stalling_ for time- but how did the kittens even pick a lock from the inside?"

Stan was still rather wound up about it.

"Sounds like some fucking amazing kittens- I'd steal 'em, too." Kenny pitched in. "But how'd she run away so fast? She was all _old_ and shit."

"I donno!" Kyle trilled, charged up as well. "She was _here_ and then she was _gone,_ I didn't think old ladies could move that fast! Dee, what do you think? … Dee?"

Her shoulders hunched. She supposed she should have cared more about the robbery, but all she saw was an obstacle to the goal she'd already set herself. Some old lady stealing a couple of cats didn't sound like something she wanted to get involved with, particularly since she viewed herself as being _on vacation_ at the moment. With a faint sigh, she turned around to face her friends, dragging herself away from the blockaded shop with its heavy gate to join the group. _Yeah, yeah, I'm here._

"Oh, right, the hamster..." Stan blinked. "We didn't get what we came for... and Butters comes home _tomorrow."_

"Think we should _rewind_ it and try again?" Kenny suggested, giving Dee a slightly cocked look. It was a thought; undoing what just happened was within her ability... but was it an appropriate use of her time-ripping ass? She wasn't sure. There was a possibility that her and her friends would _duplicate_ instead of just hopping back the hour and some needed to get to when they'd just arrived at the pet shop- there wasn't a hard and fast rule on that one, but there _was_ a hard and fast rule that every time she ran into one of her duplicate selves, they immediately tried to fight one another.

 _Not_ something she wanted to deal with today. She shook her head, picking up one corner of her mouth in a forced attempt at a smirk. _It is what it is, guys. Maybe it's better this way. For all we know, having a new hamster waiting when he gets back home will just make Butters feel worse about the one he lost._

"You're just giving up?" Stan asked, a note of surprise in his voice.

Kyle quickly echoed him. "That's not like you. C'mon, there's gotta be another way to get that hamster."

 _Oh, sure, there's plenty of ways; most of them involve-_

"We could steal one." Kenny suggested.

She blinked, snapping Kenny a sudden look. Had he suggested that? Better question, had _Mysterion_ suggested that- the main reason she'd been avoiding that kind of thought was because she figured _someone_ might disapprove. Someone whose opinion kinda sorta _hardcore mattered to her._

"What, it's not like a pet store has _air-tight security."_ He pointed out, as if _that_ was the reason for her surprise. "And it's not like we weren't willing or able to pay before- we can just leave the money on the counter and take the hamster. Simple as that."

 _That's still breaking and entering, Mr. Vigilante. You're not gonna tattle on me just to see me in cuffs, are you? **Ack, bad brain, dirty brain, stop that.**_

"Hey, that's a great idea!" Stan grinned. "Butters still gets a hamster, and while you're in there maybe you can see what kind of security they _do_ have and see if we can find out more about what happened today! _We can investigate!"_

 _Hentai tentacles raping every orifice of Gandhi, are we seriously doing this?_

"What did the clerk call her? Miss Reynolds?" Kyle quested, also getting wrapped up in the excitement. "We should ask Wendy to do a search on her- it sounded like she might have done something before- maybe it made enough of a fuss to make the news?"

 _Yep. This is happening._

"Alright guys, we'll meet up after dinner tonight in the parking lot, okay?" Stan decided. "We're gonna get to the bottom of this!"

 _For fuck's sake, all I wanted to do today was get a fucking hamster._

The thought crossed her mind that maybe she _should_ rewind time, just to avoid whatever it is she and her friends were about to do... but looking around at the guys? They were all so _excited._ Stan's face was lit up, Kyle was grinning, and Kenny looked jazzed as hell. What they were planning to do was stupid, reckless, and certainly illegal... and damnit, she didn't have the heart to put a stop to it when they were having so much fun.

Once she accepted that, she found a faint smile on her own face. It grew into a grin a few moments later, getting swept up in her friends' excited energy as they began planning their evening; quickly before their parents arrived to take them home.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

BECAUSE THAT'S HOW LEGAL COMMERCE WORKS.

Of everything I've written in NKS so far, this feels the most like something that would happen in an episode. Just the phrase 'lock-picking kittens' sounds like something from an episode. I'm unsure whether I'm proud or horrified. XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	3. Return of The Coon

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Return of The Coon::**

"Thank goodness I stayed home today; your father is... _experimenting_ again, I don't think he would have come out of the kitchen to come pick you up if the police had called him."

 _That_ was hardly a surprise... not that the call had been urgent. It was just standing operating procedure for guardians to be called when minors were present for a crime and had to give statements. If she had been in some kind of trouble, her father would have come running even if it meant leaving the oven on and risking letting the house burn down. Still, she was glad to know that _wasn't_ the case today, sitting back in the passenger seat as her mind spun off in a number of different directions. She and the guys had been discussing the best way to get into the pet store undetected when their parents had started showing up, Kyle's mother being the first to arrive. Considering it was a Saturday, it appeared most of the mothers were unoccupied and able to come running right away.

That said, why was dad _experimenting_ so early on a Saturday morning? She'd ducked out for the day, she'd expected her parents to be engaging in a certain amount of... _celebration_ with one another. After all, it wasn't all that long ago that she and her family had been living their lives as hunted fugitives, and now that was _over._ It was one of the reasons she'd been thinking of this time as a _vacation,_ despite the fact that the world just kept turning the way it always did. She still went to school, she still had to do homework, and the buzz about the President's visit had faded out of the social conscious of the school within a week... but she'd felt more relaxed. It was like a new day had dawned, and she could fuss over all the details a little less.

It didn't stop her from reflexively looking over her shoulder once in a while, but there'd been a sense of _release._

Sitting with her mother in the car, assured that her voice wasn't going anywhere through closed windows, she leaned forward to fiddle with the heat vent while asking; "What's dad up to? It's a little early for him to start practicing his Thanksgiving menu."

"He's a little more _wound up_ about it, this year." Mom answered. Her tone had changed. There was a touch of _tension_ present in her voice that pushed her inflection up a note or two. "Sweetie... uh... how would you feel about our Thanksgiving group being a little _bigger_ this year?"

 _Oh boy. Looks like mom and me had the same thought._ She stopped fiddling with the vent, leaning back in her seat once more and peering over at her mother. On the surface, she appeared the same as she ever was; curly brown hair, her sweet rounded face, and sharp brown eyes that remained strictly on the road as she was driving. Still, there was a little tension in her cheeks, a drawing up and back of her lips that morphed them into a thin line that was difficult to read.

"How _much_ bigger?"

"Well, after what you did, your father and I decided it might be safe to contact our families again. We haven't seen them since..."

"Since you were first taken." Dee wouldn't make her mother say it. She'd been through enough shit of her own to know how _uncomfortable_ it was to talk about, and she was still a kid. "I figured that. I was just thinking about it today- how much family I might have that I've never known about, _didn't think about._ But, uh... did you and dad kinda... _meet_ through all of that? Do your families even know that you're... _together?"_

Mom's face drew even tighter. Conflict was playing out between worry and joy. "They don't. I've never met your father's family, he's never met mine. Technically, your father and I got married under false identities, so not even _that_ is official... but he still wants to reach out to both of our families and bring everyone together. It's going to be an undertaking, and things might get a little... _explosive._ We've been missing for fifteen years, after all. Goodness knows my _mother_ is going to be more than a little sore... and what if your father's family hates me? I'll admit it, Lyssie, I'm a little scared."

 _Ironic_ was the word that came to mind. The horror they'd all been fearing for so long had finally abated... and yet, there were still things to be afraid of.

"You and dad have survived on your own through some pretty hardcore stuff." She offered up, lips pressing together as she tried to suss out something that her mother might find comforting. "If your families don't like each other, can't you just tell 'em to _suck it?"_

" _Alyssa-_ watch your language."

 _Oh, mom, if you knew half the things that passed through my brain on a daily basis._

"But _really,_ you guys are together and you _survived. I'm_ here, because of you guys stayed together and protected me. Shouldn't they get how _important_ that is? Didn't you stay away to protect _them?"_

Her mother was quiet for a while. They'd arrived back in the neighborhood, pulling up to the driveway of their house. The car was put in park, the keys removed, but her mother didn't take her seat-belt off right away. She sat there, both hands hanging dead on the wheel, all while the gears in her head turned behind her eyes. Finally, with a sigh, she found a bittersweet smile and reached out to ruffle her daughter's hair. "When did you start getting so _grown up?"_

 _Somewhere between the first and second time I let myself get shot in the face to resolve paradoxical body-doubling._

"Donno." She responded instead, picking up a smirk. "But if you and dad are gonna fill the house with people I don't know, can I invite some people, too?"

* * *

When Dee left the car and headed inside to go up to her room, she'd turned her thoughts to what she might do with the rest of her day. She wasn't meeting up with the other guys until after dinnertime, so she had more than a couple hours to wile away on her Saturday. Maybe duck down to the basement and get her cardio in early, just in case the whole... _stealing a hamster_ thing went weird? At the very least, it would be good to get out of her binder for a couple of hours...

Opening the door to her bedroom, she knew that nothing _she'd_ planned would be happening anytime soon.

There was someone in her room.

The window was open, letting in a sharp, cold wind that cut through her bright blue hoodie, reminding her that she'd shed of her big poofy winter coat when she had come inside. The slight breeze had blown a few loose papers around; scribbled notebook pages scattered off of her desk, and a poster for the latest Mortal Kombat game that she hadn't gotten around to putting up on the wall yet- all knocked to the floor. Additionally, various items had also clearly been displaced as the interloper dug through her stuff. The chest of drawers where she kept her clothes had been thrown open, several T-shirts tossed about and one set of cargo pants actually hanging half-way out of her bedroom window. The trunk she kept at the end of her bed, home to a number of nostalgic items, had been thrown open with several old action figures she hadn't played with in years tossed was as if a wild animal had gotten into her bedroom and ripped it apart searching for food, spreading objects out willy nilly as they were picked up, examined, and tossed aside when interest expired.

At the center of this minefield was the _last_ person she ever wanted to see in her bedroom. _Period._

 _ **Fucking Cartman.**_

His head had been in her closet when she arrived, and he appeared not to notice that he'd been walked in upon. She could recognize him from his bulk alone, but he was further identified by a very specific outfit that she'd not seen in more than a year- a uniform that he _had_ to have updated with the passage of the time and the gaining of height, and yet looked exactly the same as the last time she saw it. The theme of the colors; the black and white suit, the red cape, the gold detailing- and then there was the _ears and tail._

 _He's dressed as The Coon. Goddamnit why is he dressed as The Coon?_

Stepping in to her quite chilly room, she slammed the door behind herself to announce her entrance. Like an actually raccoon that had been caught digging through someone's suburban trashcan, Cartman suddenly jerked backwards from whatever hunting he'd been doing in her closet and scuttled away from the noise, jumping up onto her bed... and promptly _tearing her favorite comforter with those fucking claws he wore as part of the outfit._ And he was wearing _muddy fucking shoes_ he'd tracked all over the place. It appeared he might have been making a break for the window, but then he looked back, saw her, and ceased in his retreat. He stood up straight, _still standing on her fucking bedspread,_ cleared his throat, and quickly went into his best imitation of the shitty Batman voice.

"Buttlord! I've been waiting for you-"

 _Cut the shit you overgrown sack of bio-hazardous abortion clinic waste. The **fuck** were you doing, digging through my shit? _Brows crashed down over green eyes, her mouth forming into a snarl as she kicked through piles of her own things without care to what might have been damaged simply to get to him by way of the straightest line possible. The way he was standing like that, so _proud_ on top of her bed, after making such a goddamn mess? He'd put himself in perfect position for a direct punch to the nuts; or maybe she'd just _grab_ in that area and try to rip anything she felt off of his body- assuming she _found_ anything on this nutless coward.

Somehow, _The Coon_ seemed to read her intent, and quickly ducked into a crouch, protecting the family jewels before she arrived at the edge of the bed. She still reached out for him all the same, snatching up a fistful of fabric from the front of his costume and forming the other hand into a threatening fist that she drew up, all the fury of hell making her sweat despite the fact that it had not be just above freezing in her bedroom.

"W-W- _wait! DOUCHEBAG, WAIT- It's important, there's been a kidnapping!"_

 _What in the name of Hades's left nipple does that have to do with you trashing my goddamn room you lump of shit-basted cock-roast?!_ Her glare didn't abate. She felt the energy gathered up in her shoulders; halted momentum that had been prepared to knock Cartman directly out of her window and into next Tuesday... or at the very least, into a hospital bed. Did he think he could just _get away_ with this kind of invasion, and that he could stop her by claiming it was for some _grater good_ bullshit? She studied his face, the way his jaw fell open and his eyes were wide and staring at the incoming knuckle sandwich her posture promised him. His fear seemed genuine, but that just meant he had a reason to _lie_ to get his ass out of the fire.

" _...Talk fast you cunt-flavored lollipop."_

Terror rippled through his expression, despite the fact that she'd disengaged. Her fist opened, and she released his collar, backing down from her physically aggressive posture... but her words carried much more impact with him.

He knew how much she could do with them, first hand.

Still, released, he cleared his throat and reached for his cape, picking back up his 'badass' Coon persona as soon as he was physically able to do so. "I know you and I haven't been on the best of terms, Buttlord, but we need to put old feuds aside- something terrible is happening in this city, and I think you may be the only one who can help me catch the one responsible."

 _I can **hear** how many times you practiced that shit in the mirror. Get to the point._

"Tragedy has struck, within my own lair- despite having the best defenses my genius mind can possibly devise..." He paused, tugging his cape over his face, no doubt for the dramatic effect of sweeping it back in a great flourish. " _Mister Kitty-_ he's been taken! Snatched from my own fortress!"

Dee blinked.

She blinked again.

 _You pulled The Coon out of mothballs, came in here, and trashed my room... because your cat is missing?_

She wasn't exactly sure what to make of it at first. She was aware that Cartman had a cat, but she'd not seen him interacting with the animal that much... mainly because she spent as little time in his home as humanly possible. Her first instinct was to be skeptic, to believe this was part of some _greater scheme,_ as it always was with Cartman. The first place her mind went was actually the first time they'd played Superheroes, and their search for a single cat led them into the cheesing conspiracy to make crime in South Park worse than it ever was so everyone would blame the incumbent mayor and vote Mitch Conner into office, all so Cartman could try and make Christmas a daily holiday... and as much as her mind wanted to shudder at the results of that gambit and smack Cartman just for remembering the fight with the Happy Tree Friends, there was a detail in all of those thoughts that was _off._

Throughout that entire scheme, Cartman's _own cat_ never went missing. Despite all other cats in South Park disappearing during that time, Mister Kitty had been safe and sound in Cartman's house. Dee remembered seeing the cat when she'd wandered through, both looking for loose change in random desk drawers as well as taking the time to personally ruin every toilet in South Park. If she bent her head around it, she could not remember a single time when Cartman had put his cat at any sort of risk for any of his bullshit... which suggested that he genuinely cared about the animal in some capacity.

And then there was what happened at the pet shop this morning...

 _Goddamnit guys, you're rubbing off on me. Now I **wanna** investigate. _

"I'll admit, at first I _suspected_ you, Buttlord. I remembered when you first joined Coon and Friends, and how you seemed to so effortlessly bypass my impregnable security system. You'll be happy to know I've found no damning evidence, but that doesn't change that _someone_ with brainpower similar to my own must have taken Mister Kitty. No doubt my own genius would be able to solve the case in a matter of days, but when dealing with a kidnapping, that may very well be too late! _Please,_ Buttlord, now that I've labored to clear your name... help me find this depraved kidnapper before that demented fucker does something terrible to Mister Kitty!"

 _Oh. That's why you trashed my room. You thought I stole your cat because you left the code to your basement in an easy-to-find diary years ago. It's not exactly rocket science, asshole._

Her expression did not change, nor her body language, but Cartman plowed on with only a brief pause that made it _sound_ as if he'd given space for a response.

"Excellent! I had hoped I could count on you. Come, meet me at the Coon Lair, and we shall investigate the _scene of the crime!"_

 _You're lucky I like cats._ She let out a sigh as he turned to go, hefting himself into the window frame. Was he gonna jump out the window? Peering curiously, she finally saw how he'd gotten up to her room; there was a ladder leaned against her windowsill... and, living on the second floor, she didn't bother to lock her window. She supposed she'd need to change that particular habit.

Balanced on the edge, however, he twisted his head back to look at her. When he spoke, he was back to he regular tone of speaking, denoting maybe a _slight_ break in character. "By the way, Douchebag, you might wanna tell your boyfriend how into _girl's underwear_ you are before he finds out at the wrong time. Butters may be pretty open minded, but that's really shit you should tell a guy up front."

Shock turned her spine stiff, and the rage was back all over again. Horrible, pulse-pounding anger at the fact that her room had been so thoroughlyviolated, that her privacy had been completely disregarded, sent her suddenly up onto her own bed. She could take Cartman's verbal abuse, she could take his bullshit, she could even take his assumptive idiocy in believing she and Butters were dating when the _whole school_ knew that she'd said no to him and they were just friends- but coming into _her_ house, going through _her_ things, and then spouting off fucking advice like he was just trying to be a _good friend_ and do her a solid?

 _ **ENOUGH.**_

She hit him. The momentum was wonky as hell, between the flying leap onto her own bedspread to get to him and the weird balance required to draw herself up enough to make her fist connect with his face. It wasn't a solid hit, but it was one that made Cartman yelp in pain... and knocked him off balance. One foot that had been on his assisting ladder slipped, the ladder itself was kicked away, and the fat fucker who had been perched in her windowsill suddenly found himself defenestrated, scrabbling at the air with his stupid clawed fingers as gravity took over and he called out for help.

It took Dee a second to recover from the sudden burst, breathing hard as her body shook, fist clenched so hard her nails were leaving marks on her palms. It was only after she got her head back together that she registered the rest of what had happened as consequence of her violent action; a sickening _thud_ on the ground outside her house, and the conspicuous lack of Cartman's pained mewling.

She peered out of her window, looking down to see the sprawled heap of a costumed asshat who had landed on his neck.

… _well, that's not helpful._

Usually she reserved rewinding time to undo death for people she actually _liked,_ but today was not the day to get put on the line for _murder,_ even if it was a crime of passion. She slipped back off of her bed, returning to where she'd been standing before as she brought in the focus she needed to find a moment barely thirty seconds past. It was close, easy to grasp, easy to return to. Guts rumbled as she prepared the necessary force... and suddenly Cartman was back in the windowsill, and her bedroom reeked of bad tacos and fish heads.

"... be pretty open minded, but that's really shit you should tell a guy up front."

Cartman completed the sentence he'd been in the middle of, caught a whiff of the air, and then smothered his nose in his cape. "Wha- _Jesus fucking Christ, Douchebag, warn me next time!"_ Then, an additional second later. "... wait, what... what the fuck just happened?"

She shrugged; no doubt the memory of falling and breaking his neck was already fading away into a strange sense of de'ja'vu; a morbid phantom of a memory as nebulous as a dream.

 _Get the fuck outta my house._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

When death is something you can simply _un-do,_ seeing it loses some of it's impact. Particularly when it's someone you don't like very much. XD

Additionally, _defenestrate_ is possibly one of my favorite words. It means to fall out a window, though it can also mean to remove someone from a place of power. Either way, I love it.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	4. Failed Parenthood

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Failed Parenthood::**

[Sent, 12:32] Soooooo  
[Sent, 12:32] What would you say if I told you  
[Sent, 12:33] That I kinda casually murdered Cartman about five minutes ago?  
[Sent, 12:33] Hypothetically.

Dee had shut the window the moment Cartman left, preventing the cold from leeching into her home any further than it already had. Even if he'd just insisted she hurry over to his house, there was _no way_ she was just leaving her room in the utter mess he'd made of it... and she felt like she needed to tell _someone_ about what just happened. She didn't even know how she felt about it- hitting Cartman had been an act of pure, boiling rage; restraint had snapped and she'd thrown herself with all abandon to finally _express_ some of the perfectly vile and burning feelings he stirred up in her. Hitting him had felt _good,_ and there had been a perverse _thrill_ in watching him fall.

But there'd been other feelings too. A pang of empathetic panic as she'd watched his fingers try to claw at the windowsill as the force of gravity drug him down. A twist of disgust at the sounds of bones breaking upon his collision with the snowy ground. In the moment she'd been numb; registering the body two stories below her window as something of a _problem_ in need of _fixing,_ and she did. She undid it, and then there he was; right in the middle of the very sentence that had set her off, as if nothing had ever happened. Technically, that was true. _Nothing had happened._

She liked to think she _never_ took pleasure in killing, but there was no denying that she'd been riding some kind of _rush_ after what just went down. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run around her room or hide under her bed- so she split the difference.

She texted Kenny, and started cleaning up.

[Received, 12:34] wut?  
[Received, 12:34] id say JOY TO THE FUCKIN WORLD  
[Received, 12:35] hypothetically  
[Received, 12:35] r we talkin hypothetically?

A barrage of buzzes as she checked the damage to her closet first; it appeared that she'd arrived just in time to keep Cartman from disturbing her stack of dream journals- _thank the powers that be._ He had gone through the boxes of old LARP weapons though, leaving claw marks in foam blades and making her growl under her breath as she pushed the boxes back into place so the door could shut. Next was the loose papers all over the floor, as well as her ruined poster. She'd stomped right on it when she'd quick-marched from the door to the edge of her bed to get in the fat fucker's face. Upon closer inspection, she decided the poster was... _salvageable._ She shoveled it onto the surface of her desk with all the other loose papers that had gotten blown off by the breeze before checking her phone.

[Sent, 12:38] Sorta?  
[Sent, 12:39] He was in my room when I came home, dressed as The Coon. He had ripped apart my room.  
[Sent, 12:40] HE WENT THROUGH MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER and now he thinks I'm a dude who likes to wear panties  
[Sent, 12:40] I lost my shit and punched him, and he was sitting in my open window. He fell, I undid it, he's fine.

She shoved her phone back into her pocket before she could start freaking out about whatever Kenny would think of this. He knew she was capable of killing, he'd been there for the few times it had been _necessary_ in their rather adventurous dual lives... but that had always been matters of greater good or self defense. This was just her _getting angry._ Would he be upset with her? Lecture her on the morality of basically getting away with murder without any consequences?

She took the time to get all of her clothes back into their appropriate drawers before checking her phone again.

[Received, 12:43] y da fuq did u undo it?

She blinked. Not the response she expected.

[Sent, 12:44] Because murder is bad? I did just get off the hook with the federal government.

[Received, 12:45] ok but id like u to consider the fucker u just revived is guilty of so many fucked up things  
[Received, 12:45] usually i am all about 'murder is bad' but  
[Received, 12:46] in his case it woulda been public service

Kenny had her there. Cartman was capable of, and had done, some seriously fucked up shit- some of which she'd even been _present_ for. There were some stories she didn't dare to believe, others she really _hoped_ were just hyperbole, but there was no denying the crap she'd actually been around for... and it was hardcore. Cartman was a self-centered, sociopathic egomaniac... and somehow she doubted he was getting _better_ with age.

Still, that didn't take the edge off of the ugly feeling that came with doing harm to another human, no matter how reprehensible.

[Sent, 12:48] Okay, then why haven't *you* done it?  
[Sent, 12:48] You could make it look like a double suicide and still go to school the next day, no investigation needed.

A pointed question she asked while flopping her butt on her torn and dirty bedspread. How the hell was she gonna explain this to her parents?

[Received, 12:49] … fair point  
[Received, 12:50] redemption? i hang out with him because i feel bad for him  
[Received, 12:51] i guess im hoping that one day hell just get better and stop being such a twatwaffle  
[Received, 12:51] whyd he rip apart ur room anyway?

[Sent, 12:52] He thought I stole his cat. And once he decided I hadn't, he demanded I come help him investigate his house for clues.  
[Sent, 12:53] I'm REALLY tempted to ditch him, but he made a comment about my underwear drawer that makes me think he'll tell Butters about the panties if I don't show.  
[Sent, 12:53] Knowing Cartman, he'll probably try to convince Butters that I'm 'cheating on him', and Butters will translate that to thinking I'm cheating on YOU, and that's a mess I don't even wanna think about dealing with right now

She sighed- she really hated that she knew Cartman well enough to predict the likelihood of that particular manipulation. No doubt that he'd start getting antsy if she didn't head out soon... and with the presence of the Coon costume, there was an unspoken expectation that she get _changed_ before going over there.

[Received, 12:54] yikes  
[Received, 12:55] u want me to drop in? mysterion dont mind looking for missing cats

 _Heh... or rescuing his girlfriend from having to be alone with a twatwaffle._

[Sent, 12:54] Bring Call Girl if she can make it. It'll piss him off. :D

* * *

"What the _fuck_ Buttlord? You were supposed to come _alone!"_

There were few things in this world that pleased Wendy more than to see that utterly frustrated look on Cartman's fucking face. Getting a text from Kenny that requested her presence as Call Girl had been interesting enough, but hearing that they were going to Cartman's house to investigate his missing cat had gotten her more than _intrigued-_ particularly with the details her early investigation had been turning up after Stan had told her about the robbery at the pet shop this morning. So, excited and curious, she'd suited up in a white long-sleeved shirt, black leggings, pink miniskirt, boots, and gloves, and a lavender sleeveless before putting on her custom-made bandolier of devices. On went the mask, she grabbed her reinforced selfie-stick, and she set off from her house to arrive on-site just in time to meet up with Mysterion and Buttlord before heading in.

Coon had answered the door, and appeared... _less than happy_ to see anyone besides Buttlord on his doorstep.

"Call Girl has important information." Mysterion grumbled, keeping to his character while wearing his own mask and speaking in a growling voice that was _so much cooler_ than Cartman's stupid 'grim-dark' affectation. "And Buttlord asked me to come."

"Well fucking _Wendy_ can fuck-off. Superheroes is a boys-only game, doesn't she know that? I can't let _chicks_ in the Coon Lair, they'll get the place all... cootie-ee."

 _Jokes on you, fatass._ Wendy had something of an internal chuckle, wondering just how Cartman would react if he found out that the very person he _invited_ to be here did, in fact, have a vagina and two X chromosomes. Outside, however, she kept her poker face and responded with an annoyed edge. "You're not the only one who's reported a pet missing recently- there's cats missing up and down the block. There was also an incident at the mall this morning that may be connected, in which four kittens were also taken in a... _unique_ fashion. I'm compiling all the information to try and narrow down a suspect list- don't you want your cat _found?_ This many house cats going missing at the same time suggests that the person behind it might be using them for something inhumane or illegal. Don't you _care_ that Mister Kitty might be getting tortured by some degenerate right now?"

The Coon had crossed his arms, looking up and away from her as she began talking... but at mention of _inhumane_ things possibly happening to his cat, his chin became less inclined and his eyes grew more horrified. Finally, he made direct contact, looking her in the face as his jaw hung somewhat loose at the very consideration of it.

Frankly, she was rather upset with what she'd been finding as well. Responding to Stan's request for her to start looking for information on a Miss Reynolds in relation to animal crimes had felt like she'd been giving in to one of his over-reactions, but instead she'd found records from four other counties in Colorado where the woman had been banned from pet shops due to animal negligence, including Park county. Nothing had suggested she was torturing the animals she obtained, but getting the dirty details behind newspaper articles was the part of Wendy's job that took time- all she knew at this point was that Miss Reynolds was a documented _crazy cat lady_ who had upwards of one hundred and forty cats removed from her home just a year ago when a neighbor made a concerned call to animal control. The pictures from the scene had been hard to stomach; emaciated cats with chunks of fur missing due to fleas, infected wounds, threadbare coats that were covered in dirt and matted together.

 _Not_ her preferred viewing for a Saturday morning. She didn't have the heart to send those photos to Stan; they'd put him on the war path and she knew it. For Cartman, though? She was willing to bet that a visual aid might just be the kick in the ass he needed to take all of this a touch more seriously and accept help when it was given. She had her primary phone in hand, going into her recent downloads and selecting a truly terrible photograph of a gray cat that didn't look that different from Mister Kitty... if Mister Kitty had a bunch of bald spots, an ear missing, and an eye so infected it was swollen shut.

The photo got his eyes to widen behind the Coon mask when it was turned upon him, staring with horror and revulsion before looking up at her once more. Eyes dashed between her and the picture a couple more times, and finally he seemed to _get_ the gravity of what was going on. His face morphed with that acceptance, soured as he let out a sharp sigh and moved aside. "Fine, _fine,_ Call Girl gets to help... but don't fuckin' _touch_ anything!"

 _Don't worry, Eric. I don't wanna catch whatever it is that made you such a goddamned mess._

Buttlord took the lead as the trio passed into the Cartman residence, black hood and coat looking so _out of place_ in full daylight after she'd gotten used to only seeing it at night. Mysterion followed after, his cape billowing for a dramatic moment as he passed from outdoors to indoors. Finally, she herself brought up the rear, reaching back and shutting the door.

Looking around, she didn't see anything that was particularly telling to any sort of home break-in... then again, the amount of time she'd actually spent in Eric Cartman's home was pretty limited. She didn't know what the place _usually_ looked like.

"So where and when did you last see Mister Kitty?" Mysterion questioned as the Coon took the lead of the group, the four of them heading towards the door to the basement. Cartman actually had keypad entry, where pressing the buttons got the keypad to speak words... the words in question being _Kyle-Sucks-My-Balls,_ and Wendy spied the numeric code as 7651. One click of an electric lock later, and they were descending the stairs into a place that Wendy had assumed would only be slightly more depraved than your average _man-cave._

"This morning, after mom fed him." Cartman answered, breaking character for a second as they went down the stairs and resolving into his more regular voice. "Usually he comes and bothers me to share some of my breakfast after that while I watch TV, but he never did. I... I started shouting at him even though he wasn't there, just because I was so used to it- and then I realized he _wasn't_ meowing at me. I looked everywhere, but he wasn't anywhere in the house, and mom didn't know where he'd gone."

The four of them arrived at the bottom of the stairs, where Cartman's basement had been converted into a superhero lair using painted cardboard and household items. Wendy found it... _creative,_ actually. Just how much work had gone into making this place look like a make-believe version of the Batcave? Even if they were a little _old_ for this sort of thing, she could respect the time and effort spent whipping up this kind of elaborate set dressing on a shoestring budget.

It was a pity Cartman was such a jerk with an apparent allergy to applying himself to anything benefiting the world outside himself- he was actually pretty creative. There was a 'computer' centered around a tablet with loads of extra faux buttons, a big long table for meetings that had gotten terribly dusty from disuse, some kind of _super-hero prison_ on the corner made out a blanket and a dog kennel, displays for alternate outfits for The Coon, an _entirely_ too desperate merch stand with Coon branded items that no one was _ever_ going to buy, and some kind of... exhibit? For a Rubik's cube under an inverted fishbowl, duct taped to a stool under an extremely bright lamp.

" _Jesus, this place hasn't changed one bit."_ She could hear Mysterion muttering under his breath before asking Cartman, "Have you reported him missing? Or checked for tracks in the snow? Why are we _down here?_ I thought you asked Buttlord over here to help you investigate the scene of the crime."

Cartman coughed, clearing his throat as he strode ahead of his trio of guests to take position at the head of the table that took up the majority of floor space. "I _did,_ but I figure that the more people are searching for Mister Kitty, the more likely it is that he will be found, which is why I needed Buttlord's _ass_ -istance in particular." When he arrived at the far end, he made a sudden smart turn towards those he'd left behind at the basement landing and slammed his palms on the table, looking at all three of them with dead seriousness. "He's going to help me shoot a web-sclusive tour of the Coon Lair! During which, I will both explain my incredible genius and superior technology to the town, as well as my desperate need for additional assistance so everyone in South Park understands what kind of _mad man_ we're dealing with! For those too lazy or unable to help with the search, I'll include a link where they can buy Coon shirts, mugs, _pencil toppers_ \- thus funding the effort and letting them help in their own less-involved way! The ending slogan is _Find Mister Kitty, or Get Totally Rich Trying..._ pretty sweet, huh dudes? _Fuck,_ uh... damnit Wendy, you're a dude now. I'm not gonna stop saying dudes."

… _I'm not fucking sure what I was expecting._ Leave it to _Eric goddamned Cartman_ to turn an epidemic of missing cats into an opportunity to profit- and trying to use Dee's abilities to spread shit like wildfire online! "You _selfish_ son of a—"

"What? Do you know a gender-neutral way to address a bunch of people that isn't totally awkward to say? Besides, isn't that kinda like a _promotion_ for you? You've gone from _not dude_ to _dude,_ Call Girl, just own it and be proud."

"That's not what I'm fucking talking about!" She snapped, stepping out in front of Mysterion and Buttlord. "You! Your cat is missing, you should be canvasing the town looking for him, and- and- you're gonna shoot a fucking live-stream to plug your fucking _brand_ and hope other people do the leg work _for_ you? You are a _terrible_ pet owner! Is Mister Kitty even _yours?_ Loads of people who actually love their animals think of themselves as _pet-parents,_ their cats and dogs are their children, and you're going to insult them by turning your _missing surrogate child_ into a fucking _commercial!"_

For a second, she let herself think that she was actually getting through to him. She saw his face widen, eyebrows rising up, his too-round almost baby-like face composing in a moment of fantastic realization, and she was _certain_ she had somehow gotten a single ounce of empathy to awaken in him.

She really should have known better.

" _Call Girl! You're right!"_ He suddenly crowed. "That's such a _compelling_ angle- to form myself as the _broken_ and _vengeful_ figure of a father who's just lost his child; it'll stir up all the animal lovers in South Park! But they'll all be so busy with their own pets, they'll just buy some Coon stuff, and my brand will take off! Oh-ho-ho, Netflix is gonna have a hard time ignoring me after _this!"_

" _... screw this,_ I'm gonna go search the grounds for evidence." Wendy announced, turning to leave. "Maybe Mister Kitty left some tracks in the snow. You guys coming?" Her question was directed to both Buttlord and Mysterion- the pair of them looked like she felt; a mixture of _shocked_ and _predictably disappointed._

"Call Girl, wait! We need some gender diversity in the Coon and Friends franchise- you could be our Black Widow! Our badass chick character with a dark past that everyone wants a piece of! You can have your pick of romance options, and it can all get messy and complicated during Civil War!"

 _Really? Was he still trying to launch this fucking shit?_ Wendy hadn't heard about the attempted super-hero movie franchise for a _while,_ and she'd never been included in those plans by simple virtue of being _female._ To hear Cartman suddenly pitching her a role, out of pure desperation to try and keep her from walking out and taking both Mysterion and Buttlord with her, she actually took a second to think about it. Cartman had pulled off crazier shit before...

"Do I get my own movie?" She asked lowly, not turning to look at him. She knew how to play it cool.

" _What?"_ Eric's shock was _palpable._ "Are you fuckin' _nuts?_ Chicks don't get movies. You'll get a cult-classic 12-episodes-a-season series _at best,_ and it'll probably get canceled just as it's getting good so you can play a side-kick role in someone else's story, _duh."_

"No dice." She passed between Mysterion and Buttlord, mounting the stairs and aware that she was being followed by her friends; Buttlord right behind her and Mysterion bringing up the rear.

" _Are you seriously right now?_ You _know_ that's the best I can offer you! I don't make the rules, that's just how the biz _works!"_

"You're a real sack of shit, Coon." Mysterion's voice scolded. "While you're worrying about the franchise, we'll be looking for your cat. Maybe we'll actually find him before something horrible happens to him... and all the other cats that are missing."

There was a particular sense of satisfaction when the three of them got to the top of the stairs, and Mysterion offered her the honors of slamming the door shut.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Because it's fucking _Cartman_ people, really, what were we all expecting?

And even Wendy is not immune to the temptation of getting to be a for-real superhero on Netflix. People get to dream, right? XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	5. Lair Trouble

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Lair Trouble::**

While there had been hopes for kitty tracks in the snow, it appeared there would be none; recent layers of ice crystals had been thoroughly upturned by human footprints. It was a fact that made Buttlord let out a sigh of frustration, a great white cloud of breath billowing out of her hood.

"No luck, huh?" Mysterion quested from a few feet away, the pair of them going over Cartman's back yard in a thorough grid pattern as Call Girl checked along the front and sides of the house. "... I guess this kinda shows that he _does_ care, though- the tread-pattern is from Cartman's shoes. This looks like he ran all over his back yard in a panic..."

 _Or he wanted to muddy up the trail because he actually hid his cat and he's looking for an excuse to trigger another one of his **get rich quick** scenarios. You'd think a trust fund with a million dollars in it would be good enough for the fucker, but **nooooo,** he wants money in his pocket, **today.**_ Buttlord didn't articulate anything but to let off an unimpressed grunt. After what happened in the basement, she had zero faith in what was happening _actually_ being connected to Miss Reynolds or the robbery earlier that morning. The fat fucker was surprisingly good at keeping up with the news when he wanted to; maybe he'd already heard about what happened at the mall via Facebook or Twitter, hatching a plan and putting it into action in the time it had taken for everyone to get home.

 _Maybe this is another one of his revenge schemes, thought up because we all went to the mall without him._

"I don't think he's fucking with us." Mysterion responded to her grunt, once again reading her mind in his odd little way as they made their way towards the back fence, still carefully searching the snow for possible prints of toe-beans. "Believe it or not, this feels pretty close to Cartman being _sincere._ If this were all calculated, why would he have risked losing your participation by fucking up your room? Him doing something like that feels like a snap decision, grabbing at straws."

 _Or he just doesn't care because he has no sense of boundaries or property._ Black-clad shoulders shrugged; Kenny _would_ know better. He'd known Cartman for much longer than her, personally seen more of his shit... and frequently _not_ survived it. If he was still willing to take all of this seriously, she would as well... for the moment.

Not like she had a lot of choice. So long as she was keeping her mouth shut, The Coon would be able to stick all kinds of words in there without her consent... Which brought up the question was how far she'd let him _push_ before she commanded him to _go fuck himself_ and made a research project out of watching him try.

 _Heh, now **that** would be a web-cast I could get behind. _

"Hey guys, any luck back here?"

Heads twisted to find Call Girl coming through the sliding glass door from the house, bodies turning in follow-through as she shut the clear portal behind herself. There was no brightness to her expression, no hope that she'd seen anything... and there'd been no sign of Cartman since they'd turned him down in the basement. Dee had to assume he was either _sulking_ or _recalculating._

"It doesn't look like it. It's all people-prints back here." Mysterion reported, turning and wrapping his cape around himself to fend off some of the bitter wind. "You?"

"Same." Wendy's head bobbed as she affirmed that the snow cover had been ruined in all the relevant spaces. "It was like Cartman had run laps around his house... there's even a big body-print along the side of the house where I think he fell down and just flailed about. I don't wanna sound weird guys, but... what if he _actually gives a fuck?_ What happened downstairs is... well, that's pretty classic for him, but Cartman doesn't run for _anything_ unless his life is on the line... and even then, laps around his house? That much physical activity is pretty much unheard-of for him, voluntary or not. What if he did genuinely freak out about his cat going missing, and we're just... well, seeing how he _copes_ with that?"

 _Then he copes like an asshole._ Buttlord wore her assessment on her face, a tight frown puckering her lips as if she were sucking on something intensely sour. _… though that does make me feel like a bit of a dick for hitting him. Good thing I undid it?_

"It's my experience that Cartman only cares about a few things on this planet- one is his mother, the other is his cat; although both appear to be more _objects_ he feels he _owns_ than living beings he has legitimate empathy for. Panic is the initial reaction to being _stolen from,_ which is the context he likely puts it in, but _anger_ comes next." Mysterion noted flatly. "Now that we've turned down his attempt to profit off of the experience, I expect the next thing on his _to-do_ list is to come up with is a convoluted _revenge plot._ "

" _That_ never ends well." Call Girl observed. "Last time he went revenge-happy, I got knocked in the head with a baseball bat."

"Quite." Mysterion agreed. "Which is why I propose we add him to our group as we investigate- keeping a close eye on him makes it less likely that he'll fly off the handle and _kill_ someone."

Both Buttlord and Call Girl jerked slightly as they stared at Mysterion for his suggestion. No doubt it didn't sit well with their communications expert due to recent experiences, but Dee's double take as due to the fact that she felt like Kenny was ripping on her with that _fly off the handle_ comment.

 _For cripes sake, **I didn't mean to shove him out a window.** Things just happened to line up that way._

"Would you rather tell him he _can't_ be included and see where that gets us?" Mysterion quested with a twisted frown that was no more happy about it than his partners, but was burdened with having already done the math.

"... _I hate it when you're right."_ Call Girl muttered darkly, letting a sharp sigh go.

 _Seconded._

"Let's go pretend like we need him, then-" Mysterion huffed. "Back to the basement."

* * *

The basement was deserted.

More than that, the Coon Lair had been _trashed._

Call Girl had led the decent down to go get The Coon, but it appeared they had arrived entirely too late to do any such thing. The Coon was gone, and the room they'd only recently seen all put together for a video shoot had been entirely ripped apart by _someone_ with the little claws needed to leave long scratch marks in all the cardboard props. The table had been flipped. The prison cage had been drug out, overturned, with everything that had been stored on top of it scattered across the floor. Displays for alternate costumes had been shoved over, the plastic piping and duct tape that gave them structure bending and mangled to contribute to the overall mess. Even the display of merch had been toppled, Coon coffee cups having been thrown to the cement floor and shattered. Broken shards of ceramic were scattered at the foot of the stairs, causing Call Girl to halt on the final step of the stairs rather than risk her shoes on a possibly sharp shard. It looked like even the tablet built into the Coon Computer had been punched, the screen cracked and blacked out, before the rest of its housing had been clawed into and ripped to shreds.

 _Now that's a new one. Usually when Cartman gets pissed, he breaks other people's shit. Not his own._

Mysterion was once again at the rear of the pack, behind Buttlord in their procession down the stairs, but still fully able to peer in and see everything... and quietly assess it to himself. He wasn't sure what to think about this; The Coon trashing his own lair seemed to be the only explanation, but _why_ would he go so thoroughly berserk when he and the others had been so close by? It wouldn't have been hard to come upstairs and mess with them directly if he wanted to spread a little suffering... wasn't _that_ was his usual MO? Instead, it appeared he'd had an _entirely private_ temper tantrum... and then vanished without telling anyone.

"I don't like this." He grumbled from behind his two partners.

"He... he completely... why would he...?" Wendy was muttering, less in shock and more in deep thought, occasional words escaping her as she mused over the possibilities. Carefully, she took the last step down to the floor and nudged larger pieces of broken mugs out of the way for safe stepping. She picked her way over to the tablet that functioned as the 'main computer's screen, giving it a quick inspection to see if it could be of any use to her. "Think he'll press charges if I take this?"

"Take pictures of it before you do. He'll accuse you of breaking it if you don't have some kind of proof that it was broken when you took it." Mysterion advised, following Buttlord as she descended and began to do her own walk-around of the place. She struck off from the stairs to go left and along the wall, inspecting the flipped table and scattered chairs along the way. What was she thinking? With her hood in the way and her back to him, it was hard to tell.

"... Watch what you say, he might have bugged the room."

"Not my first rodeo, Mysterion." Call Girl reminded, one of her devices plucked out to photograph the tablet's broken screen before setting to liberate it from its shredded housing. "Christ he did a number on this... the display is totally screwed, but it's still powered on. I'll take it home and get it to talk to my computer, see what I can pull off of it."

"Sounds like a plan." Mysterion agreed gruffly, remaining at the base of the stairs for several more moments to do his own careful survey of the mess below him. Was this one of Cartman's tantrums? It looked destructive enough, but something just didn't feel _right._ It was too _subtle_ for Coon. Where was the spray paint? The cryptic clue that was supposed to draw them in to whatever it was he was scheming? He wasn't the sort to hesitate with the sign posts. Obvious was important to him, _attention_ was important to him. What was this supposed to look like? Like he'd lost his shit and stormed off on his own? _Where there was no one to witness him?_ "... something's not right here."

What Call Girl had said upstairs popped back into his head- that maybe Cartman _actually gave a fuck about his cat,_ and that was the reason for his odd behavior. Was the poor son of a bitch actually experiencing his first twinges of genuine care for another living being outside of _Heidi Turner?_ … _that_ had caused its fair share of odd behavior, too, but missing cats didn't suddenly come home when someone threatened to kill themselves. Not _usually,_ anyhow. And that still didn't put the trashed lair into any context.

 _Not unless..._

Buttlord suddenly stomped her foot on the ground, gaining attention where she was standing near the ruined displays of Coon's alternate costumes. It jerked Mysterion out of his musings, and nearly made Call Girl drop the salvaged tablet before she finished securing it to her bandolier of devices. "What's up?" Call Girl questioned, coming around the far side of the upturned table to join Buttlord where she stood. Mysterion held his position on the stairs for only a moment more before following suit, arriving behind Buttlord and peering curiously for whatever it was she might have found. He'd focused on the mangled show windows Cartman had built to truly make the Coon Lair a den to his own ego; the torn up cardboard and the mangled plastic piping that had held everything up against the weight of the armored suit in particular. He didn't see anything that was much different than the destruction inflicted on the rest of the place... but Buttlord was pointing _down._

 _Down at the floor._

One of Coon's claw pieces was on the floor. With it, a shred of faux fur- from the tail of the costume?

 _Fucking titty twisting hell._

"Call Girl, how long were you away from the front of the house when you were searching outside?"

"... at least ten minutes. Maybe more." She admitted. "I was trying to be thorough... I hadn't been listening for anyone coming or going... do you really think... I mean, who'd be strong enough to _move him_ after...?"

"I'm not sure." Mysterion shook his head. He still didn't like this, but for about six new reasons. "It still could be a staging act- faking an abduction like this. We haven't seen any _evidence_ that anyone else was here. He could have wrecked the place and left this behind to make it _look_ like someone took him. But the alternative is also true; that he was attacked down here and _taken_ while we were out searching for prints."

Hands clenched at his sides, teeth gritting together after he articulated the thought. No matter which way he came at this, none of it boded well.

" _Fuck."_

"Gotta feel sorry for him..." Call Girl muttered. She crouched down, her phone out again to take photos of the claw and the chunk of Coon fur before picking both up.

"I will _never_ feel sorry for Eric Cartma-"

"No, no, the guy who took him. There's gonna be hell to pay if that's what happened. Cartman's a shitty prisoner, I don't care who you are." She huffed, getting back to her feet. "I'm gonna go back outside and check out front- if a third party _was_ involved, maybe they left fresh tracks in the snow. After that, I'm gonna head home and keep working on my lead with Miss Reynolds. Maybe if I can get something solid, we can get this all wrapped up before school on Monday. St- I mean, aah..." She paused, trying to come up with another way to say what she was saying without _Stan said,_ just in case the place _was_ bugged. " _It was mentioned_ you guys were going to be investigating the pet store she robbed, sometime tonight?"

"That's right." Mysterion agreed as Buttlord remained as still. She'd been quiet and motionless throughout this exchange, which wasn't all that odd for her. Particularly with concern over monitoring, this was not a safe place for her to speak, even though both he and Wendy had heard her voice before with no ill effects. There was something _about_ her stillness that was worrying him, though. The way she'd gone somewhat _ridged_ when the possibility of a kidnapping had been mentioned, and how she'd held so still he wasn't even sure she was breathing since then. "We'll get the security footage to you if it's possible." He promised, waving Call Girl on in encouragement for her go. "We'll catch up in a minute."

There was a moment of hesitation; she was picking up on a _vibe,_ but she didn't follow it. Instead, she bowed out with a respectful nod and made for the stairs, leaving him alone with his partner.

 _Also girlfriend. Hard to forget that part._

The punctuation of the door shutting was the signal that he could drop character to a degree, reaching out and taking her by the shoulder. She was still frozen, still looking down, as if she'd become stuck- not unlike a totaled car after a wreck in the shitty part of town... but he wasn't going to let her just sit there for the metaphorical rust to settle in and her wheels to be stripped off. She was _thinking too hard_ again- a pass-time that _really_ didn't suit her that she kept throwing herself at.

"You okay?" He asked when she didn't react to touch.

Her head lifted up a little. He could see part of her face as she stood in profile to him; namely the deep frown that erred close to a grimace. Reading _that_ look wasn't hard- she didn't like this any more than he did. _Less,_ probably.

"You think he staged his own kidnapping to get us interested in what he's up to?"

Lips parted, tightly gritted teeth showed. It was the display of an abused dog- who knew exactly how their human liked to _kick._

He blinked. It hit him all at once- Cartman had been abducted _for real_ not all that long ago; an ordeal for everyone involved, including himself. It was the same ordeal that had seen Butters hospitalized after getting shot through a door by a mentally broken government agent. Buttlord wasn't just angry about Cartman _being_ Cartman. That was just _same shit, different_ day kinda crap... but so soon after a _real_ kidnapping had happened, one _she'd_ rescued him from?

"... feels like a personal _fuck you,_ huh? Well, let's find the fucker- if he staged it, I'll hold him down while you _explain_ your point of view. Could even get you some _brass knuckles_ to _enhance_ the point a little."

The tension of her jaw suddenly went slack, and lips pressed in to a pouting moment of thought. A second later, a mischievous smirk.

" _Ooooh,_ yer thinkin' something _nasty_ now, aren't you?" He snickered, relived as she turned to face up towards him. "Text me the details later; _someone's_ getting a beating when this shit is over with."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

HOLY HELL I AM ALIVE

Sorry for the delay on this one. I had a little trouble getting Cartman's scheme to gel with the rest, but after taking a step back and re-examining the various factors of events I do believe I now have a solid grasp of what the fuck is going on.

Also, Kenny just being an A-plus boyfriend with Alyssa doing the non-verbal thing.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	6. Dump and Run

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Dump and Run::**

Thirty minutes from the mall's closing time, Buttlord tucked herself a way into a stall in the men's restroom nearest to the pet store.

Arriving in costume had not been part of the original plan, but it was something that couldn't be helped after she and Mysterion spent the afternoon staking out Cartman's house in case he was totally faking and came back to plan his next move. He didn't, and instead they met his mother at the door when she returned home from... whatever it was _she_ had done with her Saturday after the family cat had gone missing. She wasn't happy to hear that Cartman had suddenly up and vanished, but she didn't seem _surprised_ that her 'little poopsie-kins' was upset enough to leave the house in reaction to his beloved cat going missing. She also tried to call him, which went straight to message- suggesting no signal or his phone being _off._ Either way, it had been time to get going, and Dee hadn't cared enough to return home and change back into regular clothes.

Sneaking into a mall would hardly be the worst thing she'd ever done in this costume; it didn't even make the top ten list.

"We're in position. Buttlord is prepared to deploy cover."

Of course, she wasn't _alone_ in this task. Mysterion had also showed up in costume, after all... and apparently getting Butters a hamster was a good enough cause to wear the mask and join her for a heist. The gruff voice that Kenny put on while in character came from the stall next to her, the pair of them having more than a few plans in order in case some security staffer came by their hiding spot... most of them having to do with driving them away with the smells her asshole could produce on command, and some minor fiddling with time if needed. Most security personnel wouldn't bother with a bathroom if it smelled like gasoline and manure, and a short re-wind would allow them to change hiding places if the rent-a-cop decided to press an investigation.

She really hoped she wouldn't have to do that- funny as it was to hear peoples' cries of disgust, _she, too, had a nose-_ and it did _not_ appreciate her butt one bit.

" _Excellent. Stan, Kyle, how are things looking at the pet store?"_

Wendy's voice. She was still at home, having been keeping an eye on social media for any move from Cartman as well as digging for information on Miss Reynolds. The party line that usually only extended to the trio of Buttlord, Mysterion, and Call Girl now had a pair of extras in on it.

" _A lot like how they looked earlier. Shutter is down, they put up some police tape. Looks like someone went in and turned all the lights off."_ Kyle reported.

" _There is a security camera- right behind the cashier's counter. It should have captured everything that happened this morning."_ Stan added.

"Assuming the police didn't already take it." Mysterion pointed out dryly. "They're only _mostly_ incompetent."

" _I don't think they did."_ Call Girl chimed in. _"This shop is part of a chain, security footage has to be released by an employee with authorization from corporate- one of the cops who responded this morning was vague-bitching about how bureaucratic red tape slows down simple shit on his Facebook account. Comments from the rest of the force ranged from 'oh well' to 'too fucking right.' Judging from today's activity on local news blogs focused on crimes in town, this is the most likely candidate for what was being referenced."_

" _... it's sometimes scary how good you are at that."_ Stan muttered, possibly not meant to be heard.

" _Ooop, here come the mall cops to ask us to leave so they can lock up."_ Kyle noted before Wendy could respond to Stan's fearful flattery. There was a pause, then the distant voice of what was likely an officer telling them that the mall was closing and it was time for them to go. Kyle's response was muffled; he'd probably put his hand on his phone, but the tone was affirmative. Then, a few moment's later, he reported in. _"Heading for the doors. I didn't see anything that's gonna help you guys get inside. The gate had a lock at the bottom, and here's betting it's got a magnetic contact that'll trip an alarm if you lift it without disarming some kind of security."_

Mysterion let off a faint scoff. "I can handle the lock, and Buttlord can handle the alarm. Did you see any sort of panel in the store? It would have looked kinda like a digital thermostat."

" _Huh...? Oh, yeah, sure- on the wall across from the counter, next to the reptile tanks. I figured it was for keeping all the scaly friends warm."_ Stan then paused, thinking for a second. _"Wait, have you guys done this sort of thing before?"_

" _Breaking and entering?"_ Wendy giggled. _"Almost for every single frame-up we did back when the government was still hot on Dee's ass all the time. Sometimes we had to dump the agents somewhere that looked bad, other times we just needed to open up their vehicles. Usually we can swipe a misplaced key, buuuuut... well, it's good to have back-up skills."_

" _Fucking Christ..."_ Stan's voice paused to strain, followed after by the clashing of a heavy door; they'd left the mall by one of the side exits- one of the few that wasn't automated. _"I really hope you guys never go evil."_

"No worries on that front." Mysterion assured.

 _Yeah, we just **operate** below board. Our hearts are in the right place. _Dee couldn't help smirking to herself. Very soon it would be time to leave the bathroom and get started on their infiltration... and she'd be lying if she didn't feel _more_ than a little cool that her friends who weren't usually part of these things seemed so impressed. Maybe it was a sad state of affairs that she'd gotten _used_ to this sort of shit... but having people around who could still be surprised by what she, Mysterion, and Call Girl got up to made it all feel _special._

It made _her_ feel special _,_ and it didn't have anything to do with likes or shares or people doing what she told them on the internet.

" _Stan, Kyle, you have a visual on the door you left through?"_ Wendy quested, a bit of excited anxiety piking up into her voice as well.

" _We do."_ Kyle confirmed. _"We tell you when the guard comes to lock it, right?"_

" _That's right."_ Call Girl confirmed. _"That's when the real fun begins."_

* * *

 _ **There's a danger to all the glamour of being a super kewl super hero- your enemies keep getting smarter, more vicious, more desperate.**_

The Coon did not know how he lost consciousness, but the splitting headache that originated at the back of his skull might have had something to do with it. He didn't remember getting hit; the last thing he could recall was being in his own hideout- a place that he thought was truly safe... unless there'd been a traitor among those he'd recently allowed within his inner sanctum. _Call Girl, the bitch, of course she would lash out after being denied her own spin-off movie. Greedy whore should learn to take what's offered to her. Doesn't she know it's the best she's going to-_

His mental tirade was forced to subside as his body experienced a _bounce,_ realizing that he was in a moving vehicle. Awareness was returning to him in brief windows of singular sensation, as if he could not process more than one sense at a time. Here was the feeling of cold air rushing past his skin, there was the rumbling under his body produced by an old car going down a poorly kept road, his nose reported the stinging smell of burning oil from a degrading exhaust system for a split second before his ears identified the very specific chug of a diesel engine.

He could feel the ribs of a truck bed, digging into his bones. It hurt, and he was fairly certain he had tried to give an indignant cry of _'fucking weak!',_ but the wind stole it from him.

It was at that moment that he realized he could not see.

 _ **Who knew where I was? Who had captured me? The only thing that was certain was how alone I was.**_

Near him, someone spoke. He didn't understand the words. Was his brain _that_ scrambled? Another voice responded, just as incomprehensible as the first.

 _ **Worse than alone. Surrounded by hostiles. The situation couldn't be more desperate, but The Coon does not give up so easily.**_

In the most subtle way, no doubt imperceptible to his captors, The Coon tested each of his limbs to ensure he'd not been brutalized past the point of function. While arms and legs felt to be intact, rope bound his wrists together behind his back, and wiggling his fingers-

" _EHY! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CLAWS?!"_

All at once, the cloudy confusion seemed to come to an end. Engine noise, wind, the bouncing, the smells, and his rather helpless condition all came together to form a rather clear picture in his minds eye... what with his actual sense of sight blocked by what felt like a rough sack over his head. Was it an _execution hood?_

 _Are they taking me somewhere to kill me?!_

 _ **I knew not who my enemy was, but certainly it could not be Call Girl. No woman could be so effective and divisive. Obviously my nemesis had to be a man of the highest caliber, a true evil who had taken notice of the justice The Coon stood for and knew he'd never last. He'd ordered The Coon killed before he could foil him by being the most super awesome hero that ever was. It was a rather ingenious plan, to get rid of his greatest threat quickly and quietly... with one flaw the size of a hooker's vagina.**_

Legs had not been bound, and they kicked out into the air to try and find anyone nearby. Failing that, the motion allowed The Coon to roll on to his belly and knees, desperately trying to right himself despite being off-balance, in the bed of a moving truck, and utterly blind. Near him, he heard two men cry out, and he finally recognized what he'd thought had been garbled speech- it was Spanish!

 _"_ _¡Disminuya la velocidad, detenga el auto!"_

Whatever they were shouting, he really didn't care. Getting upright was simply the first step in his _brilliant_ plan... which he was completely making up on the fly.

 _ **He fucked with The Coon.**_

The truck bed lurched beneath his feet, and the unstable footing he'd gained was lost as he suddenly thudded down on his butt- but it wasn't the truck bed he fell onto. No, it was a higher point he'd been knocked onto, his heels hitting a vertical face before his center of gravity swayed backward. Adrenaline shot through him as he had a horrible sense of _de'ja'vu,_ and he remembered falling. Falling from a great height, landing on his neck, hearing the bones snap in a place so intimately nestled between his ears it was the only thing he could understand, followed by a terrible nothing where he could not move or speak. While he could not see at that moment, he remembered having sight in the memory that was not a memory, of looking up the side of a house at a window, and seeing a head poke out of it.

He remembered Douchebag looking down at him, looking disappointed for some reason. Disappointed and _pissed,_ but that kid was pissed all the time these days.

He rocketed back to the present moment when he was grabbed by the front of his suit, additional hands taking him by the shoulders and hoisting him forward rather than the backwards trajectory he'd been falling in. His head swam, but he was pretty sure the truck was slowing down. The wind wasn't as sharp through the weave of the sack on his head, and the shaking under him was less.

Another voice spoke up. It was different than the others. All the voices The Coon had heard thus far had been that of adult men. This one was younger, boyish, speaking from somewhere in front of him; maybe from the cab of the truck, through an open window?

" _Bueno, amigos._ Here is good."

" _WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!"_ The Coon roared, demanding the identity of his enemy. Whoever this kid was, they sounded like they were in charge, and he didn't immediately recognize his voice. "At least have the courage to _introduce_ yourself to me, you pitiful excuse for a villain!"

The truck was going even slower now. The sort of cruising speed one might use for a hayride, taking wind almost entirely out of the equation. It was much easier to hear, now, and the boy in charge let out a malevolent laugh.

"There wouldn't be _any_ fun in that, Coon... but let's just say, I'm spreading a little _chaos_ on behalf of a friend."

Before any further questions could be asked, the same hands that had saved him from crashing over the tailgate at thirty miles per hour suddenly sent him over the side at five. The toss was calculated, and he landed in icy cold snow on his side, rolling several feet as the diesel engine suddenly roared and sped away. It sent a spray of snow infused in choking oil smoke up behind it, the gritty shards of which made The Coon spit and cough as he desperately wriggled about in the snow to try and right himself, all while loudly complaining of a number of aches and pains that came with getting tossed out of a moving vehicle.

 _ **Professor Chaos had a powerful new ally. He'd spared my life, for now, but who knew when he'd try again? It would take all of my genius and fortitude to take on this mysterious new enemy.**_

Getting upright was a fight in the snow, but finding the edge of the road and the curb up onto the sidewalk was enough leverage to roll into a sitting position and go from there... although he was still _blind_ and _tied up._ First instinct was to start screaming and crying at the sky for his mother, but who even knew if there was anyone around to hear that kind of display and find her for him?

… couldn't hurt to try. The tears were coming either way.

" _MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!"_

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Yes, the _**bolded italics**_ were completely supposed to be Cartman's over-epic and entirely delusional voice-over shitass he did in the show. IDK if it fully worked that way, if his voice actually came through on that, but fuck it I had fun writing it.

It also lets us, the readers know that yes, Cartman got legit kidnapped.

But who did it? And _why?_

 _FIND OUT NEXT TIME_

Well, probably like... next, next, next time, considering there's still a few chapters to go. But y'know. Escalating action and all that.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	7. Detour

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Detour::**

The job inside the pet store was the definition of a get in, get out, get _gone_ sort of operation. Once the lock on the shutter was open, it was time for a little _freeze_ action from Buttlord in order to slip under the shutter without triggering the magnetic trip, closing it behind herself and stepping over to the alarm panel while the world stood in stasis for the thirty-odd seconds she could hold it there by pure power of her butthole. Call Girl had already found out the code to disable it in an unsecured e-mail exchange between the location manager and their district manager; directing them to set the combination to the last four digits of the panel's serial number. An electronic chirp signaled that the alarm was disabled, and time was allowed to resume its regular flow so that Mysterion could lift the gate without risk of a shrieking alarm.

Buttlord ducked between the shelves to retrieve the chosen hamster [safely asleep in a cardboard tunnel] and leave her money on the counter whilst Mysterion made for the back room to retrieve whatever he could for security data. She was ready to go within a minute, but it took him a little longer... and he returned with what looked like a DVR box. Had he just straight up _stolen_ the whole storage device? … she supposed it wasn't the sort of thing easily downloaded onto a USB on short notice.

No matter, Call Girl would have yet another device to play with. She was developing a small _horde_ of stolen goodies at this point.

The metal gate was closed with as much care as the pair could muster after that, with Mysterion holding the stolen device like a football under his arm and Buttlord tucking the sleepy [and somewhat panicked] hamster into one of her many pockets. From there it was time to dash to their second hiding place- an alcove for vending machines that was just up the hallway a bit; closer to their exit and further from the place they'd just casually robbed. Arriving there, Mysterion made a rather agile example of how to get atop a drink machine and make it look fucking easy, reaching back down and helping Buttlord up once he had his footing. Crouching down in the space between the ceiling of the alcove and the tops of the machines, they were both small enough that tucked all the way against the back wall they'd be nearly invisible to anyone who didn't think to look in that exact spot for them.

A moment later, the expected security guard between them and the door walked by, whistling merrily on his way without a clue that he'd just walked by a pair of pint-sized trespassers.

From there, it was a straight run to the exit. Mysterion made short work of yet another lock, and it didn't matter if a magnetic alarm got tripped this time; they were already out.

Their path went away from the sidewalk and directly across the parking lot, heavy doors crashing shut behind them.

A sprint was exactly the sort of thing Buttlord needed to heighten the adrenaline rush of escaping unseen. Despite the fact that no one was currently after them, she dug in and put her whole body into an exuberant run from the wall's sidewalk to the curb that bordered the far edge of the parking lot. There was a delight in it, if only to give her heart a _reason_ to be pumping so fucking hard and take the edge off... and the cold wind felt _damn good_ in her face.

Mysterion was right with her as she hit the far edge of the parking lot, puffing somewhat and giving her a _look,_ which she responded to with a delighted and not-at-all winded _grin._

"You guys did it?" An excited voice quested from behind one of the bushes that bordered the parking lot, rustling until two others emerged from cover; Stan and Kyle had been hiding here to wait for them. It was Kyle who asked, arising in the cloud of his own breath in the November cold.

"We did it." Mysterion confirmed, holding out the black box he'd nabbed as proof.

 _Fuck you guys, all wrapped up in your kitty conspiracy. **I** got a hamster._

"You took the whole thing?" Stan asked with a note of surprise.

" _You did what?"_ Call Girl was still listening in via earpieces Mysterion and Buttlord wore... and apparently the mics were sensitive enough to catch Stan, even though he and Kyle had gotten off the line a bit ago.

"I couldn't find anywhere to plug in." Mysterion complained. "I wasn't gonna hang around to _get caught."_

" _... let's hope the data didn't get corrupted by the sudden disconnection."_ Call Girl muttered.

"What's she saying?" Stan asked, curious and only getting one side of the conversation.

"Disconnection might have corrupted the data on it, like yanking a USB while files on it are still in use." Mysterion explained. "Stan, can you bring this to her?"

" _Of course he can, my parents invited him for Movie Night."_

"Yeah, me an' Wendy already had plans to get together after me an' Kyle hung out today." Stan confirmed, hands coming out of his pockets to accept the black box when it was offered. "... donno what to say this thing is if anyone asks, though..."

" _Tell him I'll meet him at the door with a bag to shove it in so my parents don't get suspicious. I 'try out' purses at the house all the time."_

"She says she's got you covered."

"... is it bad that I was expecting this to be a lot _harder?"_ Kyle asked, looking around a little nervously. They were far from the streetlights that illuminated the parking lot; casting them in desolate shadow, but their position still _felt_ pretty exposed. "Maybe we shouldn't be standing around."

"You guys get going." Mysterion agreed. "... Buttlord and I have a hamster to deliver."

 _And here I thought you'd forgotten._

It wasn't that she wasn't _interested_ in what was going on with Miss Reynolds and the cats... she just really wanted to do this for Butters. It was her original task, and she wasn't gonna be happy until it was done.

She was _particular_ like that.

* * *

"Okay, but..."

"What? Are they too small?"

"No, no, the size is good, just... _uh... when did you buy clothes for me?"_

Since the recent incident with the President, Dee's basement haven had become the de facto base of operations for the duo of Buttlord and Mysterion. Kenny had already placed one of his additional costumes [many had to be made for the inevitable possibility of destruction with his rather disposable flesh] in the cupboard under the stairs for Dee to lock away, giving him a second place where it was easy to get into costume should the need suddenly arise. Entry from outside the house was accomplished via a thin storm window that was _just_ big enough for either of them to fit through, but certainly not an adult. That said, however, he had done his changing at his house today, so surprise had been his reaction when she insisted he could come to her house to change back into street clothes before going over to Butters's house to deliver their hard-won hamster. She didn't open her mouth while they were out on the street, so no explanation was offered; she simply gave him one of her _looks_ that reminded him that she wouldn't grab his hand and tug him along unless she were certain of the decision, so off they went.

And now, upon arrival, he found out why- she'd gotten an extra set of clothes for him to be on hot standby, essentially creating not just an extra _drop in_ point for Mysterion, but also an extra _drop out_ point already equipped with what he'd need to blend in.

"Couple days ago. Seemed like a good plan." She reported lowly- the basement was generally considered a _safe_ location for her to talk aloud, but there was ambient sound coming from the house above them that suggested her parents were on the main floor. Stepping up out of the basement with a friend whom they'd not seen entering the house would be one thing; surprising but ultimately acceptable. If one of her parents came down here to _investigate_ and found her down here with him, _that would be an entirely different kettle of fish._ Particularly if he was still changing in the space under the upper landing.

"It's all second-hand," She informed, just beyond the space he was using as a changing room, leaning against one of the four wooden beams that created the frame beneath the upper landing, with her back to him. "It's not like I blew a month's of allowance on new shit..."

Second-hand or not, it was a new set of jeans where the knees weren't run through and only had one patch, and a couple of shirts that didn't have any holes in them; one long-sleeved gray shirt and a short-sleeved black one with a mostly flaked-off image of a white rose on the chest. Simple, practical, and ultimately... a gift from his girlfriend.

 _And man she is trying to play it off like it's no big fucking deal- be a little **cooler,** Lyssie, why don'cha? _

"... do... do you like it?" She asked as he went quiet for a moment, finishing the process of dressing himself by plonking his butt down in one of the three beanbag chairs in the tucked away space and putting his shoes back on. _Doubt_ was part of the question, but it also made him smile. She wasn't quite as cool as she tried to act, and cracks in the facade provided glimpses of the actual human being she was used to constantly protecting.

Gathering up the divested pieces of the Mysterion uniform, he stepped out and peered down at her. She had her arms crossed in front of chest with her own bundle of street clothes in her grasp, her head twisted away- had she been fighting the temptation to _look_ while he was changing? She'd told him to change first, so she was still in the Buttlord costume, and her hood fully obscured her face from view... but the crumpled posture she was holding gave him the rather distinct impression that she was _blushing_ somewhere under that hood.

"It's great." He assured her, eliciting a _jump_ as she hadn't realized he'd stepped out right next to her. She looked up, and it was just as he'd guessed- her face was _crimson_ under her hard-mask.

"Ah- _good."_ She stared at him, maybe for a second too long, before ducking her head down again and scurrying around him to claim the vacated space.

"You _overheating?"_ He snickered slyly, stepping on to tuck away the trappings of his hero persona in the open cupboard that was built into the support structure of the stairs coming down from the main floor; someone had planned out this space pretty well when the house was built. Once she was done changing, their things could be safely locked away in here, protected from prying eyes as well as sticky fingers... or maybe just _clawed_ ones that tore apart bedrooms. "Or maybe you saw something you _liked?"_ He suggested.

He heard her choke around the corner- but it wasn't the flustered sort. It was a laugh. "What makes you think I peeked? I've been using the same bathrooms as you for _years._ You're not packing anything _new_ to me."

 _Not a bad point, guess I'll have to try **harder** to shock you._

Grinning, he took up the spot she'd been occupying only a moment ago... only he slung his hands behind his head in a much more relaxed posture. He'd found her flustered blushing quite adorable, and his aim was to make it _worse._ "Shit, you scoped out every dick in the grade and you still picked me? _Win."_ That had to cross a line, right?

"Tch, you assume dicks are a point of attraction." She was unimpressed, and sounded entirely comfortable with the subject. Not even a hesitation or a stutter. "If that were the case," She went on, "the race woulda been between Butters and Token."

 _Okay, fair, she's been playing as a boy for a few years, penises probably stopped being a big deal pretty fast... let's get personal, then._

"Oh, and what is that gets the _Mysterious Farting Vigilante_ going?" He quested through a lopsided smirk before letting out one of his oddly sweet giggles. "Or do you just go for _any_ schmoe you can easily shove into a wall?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know~" A sing-song response- _she wasn't even fazed._

Banter aside, there was a pretty strong temptation for _him_ to peek. Between their words, he could hear shifting fabric and the heavy sound of her coat getting dropped to the floor. There was even a faint squeaking- no doubt the hamster they'd gotten protesting getting removed from the pocket of said coat and moved somewhere safe while she changed. If he looked at the right time, he had a possibility of catching her in her binder- or maybe she'd gone for a bra today? _Tempting, very tempting._

 _And what happens when you get caught, genius? You really want her to **snap you in half?**_

… _could be kinda hot..._

"Guy likes to know what his competition is... or who he can make out with to get bonus points."

She scoffed faintly. He heard more shifting fabric in a brief pause. For a second he _thought_ he'd finally gotten her, found the line that tripped her up... until she followed up with an almost _devious_ declaration; "Don't threaten _me_ with a good time, I could think of a _few_ people I wouldn't mind having sandwiched between us."

 _Holy fucking shit, had she always been this **dirty,** or is she putting on a show for me? _

Sometimes, Kenny found himself still trying to figure out exactly who his friend and partner was. Sure, he'd known her for a couple years, since she'd moved to South Park, but the majority of that time had been spent thinking she was a boy. He'd shared bad jokes with her, probably had his dick out more times than he should have, sent her links when he found good porn, and... well, _treated her like a guy friend._ A _silent_ guy friend, who texted him the occasional naughty thought or joke but never anything _intensely_ vulgar... but now? She talked, and sometimes _the most filthy fucking shit_ came out of her mouth. Had she always been like this under the surface, or was she following his lead, putting on an act, _pretending_ for an audience?

It felt like it was her genuine self he was interacting with, but he'd just never heard a _girl_ talk that way. Not unless she was a _working girl,_ or a _rich spoiled whore._

"... _seriously?"_

The warmth that came from playful jabs back and forth was struck back, suddenly pulled back to reveal an honest question- _his_ honest question that wondered just how raunchy her inner monologue actually got. Not offended... but _intensely curious._

She arrived from around the corner, dressed in the usual; black baggy-ass cargo pants, and her big electric blue hoodie. Her clothes made her look almost as wide-bodied as Cartman, burying a fact he'd learned through a couple of hugs; she had _hips._ Disguising her shape had required widening her silhouette with loose layers. The Buttlord effects were draped over one arm, bent to hold them up, the other hand holding a fluffy little hamster who had gone through an entirely too-long day for one adorable rodent.

"... is that a problem?" She questioned, much in the same way she'd asked earlier if he liked the clothes she'd gotten him. _Uncertainty, insecurity,_ the fear of a mis-step; all were present in her tone and her face, with had elongated with the rising of her brows and the loosening of her jaw, leaving wide and earnest eyes in the middle.

That was proof- this was her. The real her. She was just as foul-mouthed and _foul-minded_ as he was.

"Are you fucking kidding?" Eyebrows rose up as he went back to his crooked grin. "If you've got fantasies, _I want details..._ later. When we don't have a friend about to get out of the hospital who is expecting to see us tomorrow." He winked, as if her descriptions might be the sort of thing that would keep him awake for entirely too many hours tonight, doing things _unmentioned._

She smirked at him, proceeding to the cupboard to tuck her own things away. The hamster, poor creature it was, got tucked into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. The cupboard was shut, locked, and a motion was made for them to head upstairs and finally announce their presence for the two seconds it took for them to leave the house through the front door. They might have used it coming in if not for the fact that her parents were still unaware that he was Mysterion... but exiting that way would at least let her touch base with them. And _him_ showing up in the house always had the possibility of him getting sent home with food- a tempting enough bonus to risk the funny look of _'when the heck did you two get here?'._

So up the stairs they went with her in the lead, the voices on the upper floor getting louder as they approached the door. He could recognize the voices of their parents, but it was just as she was opening the door that he realized there was a third voice that was not familiar at all. Someone new, whom her parents were talking to, and their tone was... _strained._

She stepped out and appeared to be arrested on the spot. He couldn't see out beyond the alcove for the basement door, a couple steps behind and still two steps down on the stairs adding a height disadvantage to his viewpoint. He couldn't see what had shocked her so much that her spine snapped into perfect posture and her shoulders shot back, feet shifting apart for the wide sort of stance she took when she was either about to _bolt_ or _throw someone._

Beyond her, he heard her mother's voice.

"Oh, Alyssa, that's where you've been hiding. My mo- _your grandmother_ is here. Come out and say hello."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

SHIT JUST GOT _AWAKWARD_

See what happens when you risk social mishaps for free food Kenny? _Do you see? You coulda just gone back out the window, but noooooo._

 _ **You also had to go and flirt for half the chapter so my sympathy is nil.**_

I enjoy Kenny's little episodes of having to _re-define_ Alyssa in his mind. He's generally good at rolling with stuff, but that doesn't mean he's entirely free from preconceptions. XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	8. Grandma Vernice

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Grandma Vernice::**

The sight of the old, thoroughly wrinkled woman sitting on the couch with her mother had been enough to send Dee straight into irrational panic. Suddenly all the _fucks she didn't give_ about this whole _pussy crisis_ felt like they were coming back around to bite her squarely in the ass. Years of unlikely coincidences in South Park led her to the assumption that the woman who was now in her home, unfamiliar and unexpected, _had_ to be connected to the conspiracy she was already somewhat involved in. It was the sort of thing that triggered a massive kick of _fight or flight,_ mixed in to her base fear of strange adults in her house from a _long_ history of home invasions spurred by the obsession she stirred in others with her social media presence. Even as her mother awkwardly invited her to come out and say hello, her gut instinct was to slam the basement door shut again and bolt for the little window down there to get back outside.

Within the next second, she allowed herself a harsh _inhale,_ and suddenly she realized the old woman she was looking at did not look at all like the old woman who had been at the pet store that morning. Her face was rounder, and lacked the blemishes. She had a slight ski-jump nose, narrow lips that pressed tightly together into a sort of permanently disapproving scowl, and silver hair that had been gathered back into a tight bun. The old woman at the petshop, by comparison, had been more angular in the jaw and bore a much thinner coif which had been left in loose and curly whisps. In fact, before she'd revealed herself to be much more _capable_ than the average senior, the woman known as Miss Reynolds had looked like the _definition_ of a sweet old granny... this woman, on the other hand, looked more like the definition of an angry librarian.

Behind her, she could sense Kenny waiting for some kind of direction, but she was still struggling with the initial panic of having her home invaded- _for the second time today._ At least this person hadn't come to ruin the sanctity of her room... hopefully.

"Disobedient little snipe, is she?" The old woman quested towards her mother, who had a look on her face like she really would have preferred to swallow hot coals than continue sitting on the couch with... _her mother?_ Yes, there was a resemblance. The shape and sharpness of their eyes, in particular. "Yer mother told you to _come here,_ child, now show a little life!"

The woman had some kind of regional accent, and she wielded her voice like a blunt object, swinging and jabbing with harsh punctuation.

Dee had heard _respect your elders_ a few times in her life, but there was no desire to do as she was told.

She also had no desire to abandon her mother to whatever fate was involved with remaining on that couch. She saw no winning action in this scenario, and remained rooted to the spot in her shocked stance while trying to overcome the _brain-lock_ involved in accepting that she was _related_ to this old coot who appeared to be making her mother a few thousand shades of uncomfortable. Default was _come out swinging,_ but that action was disabled until a credible threat was presented... or until mom stopped trying to be polite.

"Give her a second, our Lyssie is a little _shy."_

From the doorway to the kitchen, her father's voice chimed in; a comforting note if there ever was one. She looked over, finding him leaning in that open portal, arms crossed over his chest. He _also_ didn't look particularly happy with their house guest, but making eye-contact with his daughter allowed them to trade a split second of support.

"So you're a _coddling sack of shit_ as well as a _failure of a man?"_ The old woman, _grandma,_ supposedly, barked out to her father. "Kids grow up soft when their fathers don't have the stones to beat 'em proper. Assuming you even fathered the lass, you frilly _housemaid."_

"Mother!"

The discomfort of the room was palpable.

"I won't let you speak to him like that- you can't just show up unannounced and-"

" _You show up outta the blue after_ _ **nigh on fifteen years**_ _of no contact and tell_ _ **me**_ _I can't see my daughter?"_ The old woman suddenly rose to her feet with a shriek; a task she accomplished with a cane which had not been apparent from Dee's viewpoint until that moment. It was a gnarled, wooden thing with a number of nicks interrupting the shine of the years-old varnished timber. It appeared that a dog may have spent considerable effort brutalizing the handle at some point. "From what you tell me, he ain't even your husband! Just some _fop_ you met when ya ran off to that fancy school with your fancy photographs, and all of the sudden you come back with a _near-grown_ grandbaby and a _crock a shit_ about how you were hidin' _fer my safety,_ _ **but I ain't allowed to speak my mind to yer live-in cook?"**_

"We did what we had to do, Mother, if you'd just let me _explain-_ His family only just found out, too. We were finally able to come out of hiding- it was like witness protection. I didn't expect to find out that you were living so _close_ to where we ended up."

" _And we certainly weren't expecting you to make the drive out **tonight."**_ Dad added, in a lower register.

The situation was taking shape, and Dee's desire to step out from the basement doorway was beginning to breech into negative numbers. She got the feeling that if her parents had the opportunity, they'd follow her down into the lower level just to escape the amount of _yikes_ that was going on here... and yet, she couldn't abandon them.

Knowing full well she was stepping into some kind of hell, she put a foot forward to accept her fate as part of the family. She loved her parents too much to do anything else.

"Oh _shi-_! Kenny- I didn't realize you were here."

She blinked; her father's voice addressed her extra, whom she had _not_ expected to follow her up. Certainly Kenny, more than anyone _,_ recognized the sounds of a family fight? Certainly Kenny, more than anyone, _wanted to avoid this kind of shit?_ She had expected him to tuck himself back in the basement, escape while he could, and let her take on this shit on her own. It wasn't his problem, after all.

"Yeah, Dee was just about to walk me home." Kenny reported, the sound of his voice identifying him as standing close. There was a lower note in it, that hard quality he got sometimes... frequently while protecting Karen. He'd snapped into _guardian_ mode.

 _Water balloons filled with jizz and maggots, he's trying to **protect me.**_

If all of this wasn't enough to cause a short-circuit, the feeling of her heart pounding in her throat might have been the last straw. One part of her wanted to elbow him right in the gut for thinking she _needed_ any kind of protection, and another part was jumping up and down and squealing like a tween who just found out their favorite boy band was coming to town. Neither could be expressed at the moment. She kept her eyes front.

Dad quickly assessed things and realized he could offer an out to both his wife and daughter. "It's cold out there- why not have mom drive you kids?" He suggested smoothly. "I wouldn't feel right making you walk."

"And _who the hell is this kid?"_

Grandma's fury apparently cared not for the borders between friends and family. Her cane thumped against the carpet as she walked with a defined limp to come around the couch, passing by her daughter to bear down upon her granddaughter, her lips pursed together as if she were sucking on an intensely sour lemon as sharp blue-gray eyes drug over her, and then her companion. "What, you just let your daughter disappear with _boys_ whenever she pleases? What kind of young lady are you raising?"

There was a sense down one's spine, in the muscles that made up the lower back, that could _feel_ other people wincing. Dee felt that from both her parents, and her grandmother addressed her as female in front of someone who supposedly _wasn't_ in on the secret. According to them, Kenny had overheard a number of shocking things this evening, including but not limited to her _name._

 _Fuck my eye-sockets with petrified shit, this is gonna end up with another one of those **talks** later, isn't it? I don't have enough brain cells for all this._

"She's very mature, mother; we trust her and-"

"And this one?" The old woman's gaze shifted up to Kenny, not even acknowledging her daughter as she tried to get a word in edgewise. " _Humph,_ looks the type that couldn't keep his hands to himself if you _paid_ him. Scruffy, too, the type that peddles _drugs_ and _distraction._ Just what were you to _up to_ down there-?"

" _Vernice, that's **enough**!" _

A shock went through the room. Dee felt as if a giant hand had suddenly slapped her square in the chest, a jolt of primal terror making her feel as if her skeleton had jumped independent of the rest of her flesh. A voice had shouted out, but it wasn't the voice she was used to shouting. Usually the _loud_ angry person was mom; _mom_ shouted, _mom_ screamed, _mom_ bellowed down the stairs her demands and punishments for transgressions, a self-proclaimed _house-ogre_ throughout Dee's childhood as the go-to disciplinarian... but the voice that had suddenly boomed through the house had been _dad._

Dad, who usually spoke softly. Dad, who'd rather laugh than argue. _Dad, who had_ _ **dropped an octave**_ _and let out a_ _ **shout**_ _that felt like a small_ _ **bomb**_ _going off._

The old woman recoiled from her inspection of her granddaughter and additional friend, peering over to the father of the child instead. Her eyes had grown quite narrow, and her cane thumped on the floor as she adjusted herself to face the man directly. The silence stretched, stealing tics of the clock as everyone else in the room held their breath, certain of disaster but uncertain of its form.

The old woman let out a laugh.

"Finally found yer balls, did you? _Took long enough._ Here I had you written off for _gay_ and using my little girl as a cover."

"Mom, _please-"_

"Oh, listen to you, begging and pleading with me- it's like you forgot who your mother is!" The sour look she'd been wearing wasn't entirely banished, but the old woman had adopted an expression that _could_ be described as a smile. It was a twisted thing, lifting up the curtains of jowls creased by years of glowering. Strange, but it was better than her bitter expression from before. "Your daughter is more like it- you can see it on her face that she's not one bit impressed with me, and she doesn't even have to _bark."_ She turned again, leaning down, and Dee found herself face-to-face with the old woman. Her breath smelled of peppermint candies to a concerning degree. "You're a spitting image of your mother, though... got that _look_ on your face just like hers- when nobody was going to tell her _nothing_ about what she'd do or think. She'd dig her heels in like a stubborn mule and not give an inch... you're the same way, ain't you?"

 _Fucking try me and I will rip your ass in half so hard it'll open a gate to a shitty new dimension._

"She doesn't _talk."_ Dad informed shortly.

"Talks with her face." Granny Vernice scoffed. "Proper _pissed,_ loves you both... looks like you mighta raised her half-decent, outside of cutting her off from the whole _damn_ family. _Hmmmm,_ and the boyfriend? Lookeet you, standing there all _quiet-like-_ who do you think you're _impressing_ with that face?"

"Can we go now?" Kenny asked flatly, not rising to the bait. Dee could feel him behind her, like the air around him was _vibrating_ with controlled fury at the accusation of having somehow _corrupted_ her, but it didn't show when he talked. _How diplomatic._

"Who's stopping you?" The old woman scoffed, waving her free hand before thumping her way back to the couch, where Dee's mother still appeared _perfectly helpless..._ but her father was approaching to join her and present a unified front. "Scamper on, kiddies, the grown-ups need to have a long _talk."_

Dee didn't move right away, waiting for her mom to look over so that they might share a second of silent assurance, much as she had with her father when she'd first stepped out. It took a moment, but eventually eye contact was made and a nod was traded, something of a half-smile gaining a foothold- it appeared having her _illegitimate_ husband at her side was the strength she needed to tackle this particular beast. "Go on, sweetie. Take your time- it's the weekend."

Neither she nor Kenny needed to be told again.

* * *

 _Relief_ was a sharp chill cutting through his new clothes as Kenny followed his partner outside, shutting the door behind him and feeling very much as if he'd just escaped some kind of _lion's den_ unscathed. He hadn't been in fear of any _harm,_ but the temptation to _slug Alyssa's grandmother_ had been pretty potent. More than that, though, his concern extended to his girlfriend... who didn't miss a beat as they left the house- brisk steps were speeding her away from the door and towards the sidewalk.

He hurried after her, catching up and getting her by the elbow before she could jet off and leave him behind. Her head was down, hair fallen into her face.

"Hey, you okay?"

He'd tugged her back enough to get her to _stop,_ certain that she'd plow ahead straight to Butters's house if he let her.

She was quiet for several moments. Sparkling dust from recent snowfalls was churned by the breeze, catching the nascent moonlight of the early evening and creating bends and eddies of shining currents in her mostly undisturbed front yard. It was a pretty little phenomenon that could be seen anywhere in South Park after the powdery snows that came during the transition between fall and winter, and seemed to be the only tell to time passing as he held her back from bulldozing from one task to the next.

"... I froze." She huffed from beneath the cover of her poofy bangs, trusting the silence of the street enough to believe they were alone. "Mom was upset, dad was under attack, and... I froze. A-And you.. _you..._ you didn't have to... you could have run away. It wasn't your problem. You didn't have to be there."

His eyebrows popped up high on his forehead, the lopsided line of his mouth making up a face that said _seriously?_ as much as he _tone_ did. "You froze." He pointed out- it wasn't like he _hadn't_ noticed. "What was I gonna do? _Abandon you?_ Your family can't throw anything at me that comes _close_ to the shit mine gets up to. Everyone in that house was _sober,_ and no one was getting beaten to a bloody pulp over something stupid."

"I could handle _that_!" Her pitch went up, voice straining into the texture of a scream without the volume whilst her head also popped up. Hair was thrown out of her eyes as she looked over at him, her expression nothing short of _bewildered._ "Violence is- well it's not _good,_ but I _get it,_ but that was all _words_ and... _Rainbow Colored Carebear Gang-rape_ I don't _like_ her. Why the fuck do families even get together around the holidays if they just come into your house and act like _that?!_ Why do my parents even want to-" She choked on her own train of thought as it apparently skipped over a few tracks. " _Thanksgiving is gonna be unbearable."_

"Eh?" Kenny cocked his head slightly. _"Thanksgiving?"_

"After fixing shit with _President Bitchtits_ so that she can't come after us anymore, my parents figured it was safe to contact their families for the first time since _they were first taken-_ before I was born, and get them all together for Thanksgiving. I don't even _know_ how many relatives I have, but I feel like an _Ostenmayer family reunion_ is gonna be hell in a hand-basket if that's what just one _grandmother_ is like. Mom and I were talking about it earlier, when she picked me up from the mall- and I was gonna invite your family so that my house wasn't _completely_ full of strangers, but... no, no, I'm not gonna put you guys through that, it's not _fair-"_

" _Fuck fair,_ I'll take a free Thanksgiving dinner with a side of chaos."

"Kenny, _it's going to be a disaster—"_

"A _delicious_ disaster if your dad is laying out the spread. If things get extra crazy, we can always bail."

She shook her head, withdrawing her elbow from his grasp so she could drag her fingers through her hair, raking it back as a nervous action. Finally, she let out a sharp sigh and gave him a _look._ "... you're just gonna keep _rescuing_ me no matter what I say, aren't you?"

"Price of admission." He responded with a smirk. "You thought kissing on this face was _free?"_

She blinked. He'd finally managed to surprise her, and he watched as she went from confused to holding back a giggle in the span of a second, though he got served a stiff slug to the shoulder for his teasing trouble. "C'mon." She made a motion. "I'm cold, so this poor little hamster in my pouch must be _freezing._ Let's get the little dude to Butters's mom, and then touch base with Wendy... hopefully she's got some information on Miss Reynolds now."

"I thought you weren't interested in the investigation?" He quested of her slyly, shoving his hands into his pockets as they continued on for the short walk it took to get to the Stotch residence.

She scoffed, not giving him a verbal answer.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

I once again ended up lingering in these scenes longer than intended, but it didn't feel right rushing through them. And yes, _Ostenmayer_ is Alyssa's actual last name. Plus I really like spending this time to build up the relationship dynamic between her and Kenny, which will become more important as we approach the finale.

BTW, The amazing Cortillaan has struck again and arted up a cover for the forth story of this series! I cannot thank them enough for all the amazing artistry they've lent to this humble little series of fanfiction.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	9. Kyle Is Totally a Fifth Wheel

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Kyle is Totally a Fifth Wheel::**

"- Okay, can everyone hear me?"

" _Loud and clear, Wendy."_

" _Same here."_

Wendy couldn't help being just a touch _anxious_ as everyone got connected to the video chat. She had two camera feeds on her screen; one of which was mostly _dark-_ the feed from Kenny's iPhone. He and Dee were together, walking to his house, but there was barely enough ambient light to even pick up their faces as they passed from the main suburban neighborhoods of South Park to the shitty part of town where the street lights barely got maintained. The other was coming from Kyle's computer, where the redheaded boy appeared to be dressed down for bed and sitting in the warmly lit comfort of his bedroom.

Stan was with her on her side of the screen, which peered into the comfort of her own room; a place that still had pastel pink carpet from when her parents had decorated the room for her as a baby, but thankfully had repainted the pepto-pink walls to a less offensive shade of lilac. She'd recently been upgraded to a queen sized bed, decorated with a yellow comforter that had a daisy design scattered over it. Perhaps it was the walls that were most telling as she began to lean away from the assigned feminine identity of the room- a sci-fi poster from back when _The Matrix_ came out and the theater had been getting rid of their promotional material post-release interrupted the pastels with stark black and green, the corner of which just made it into the video frame from her computer desk. There were others, too, out of frame and invisible to her viewers- _Mad Max: Fury Road_ got the prized spot of her closet door, _The Fifth Element_ near her window, and a collage of Doctor Who titles screens over the years was hanging up on the wall directly behind her computer monitor. Smaller finds were dotted here and there, interspersed with happy rainbows and glittery flower stickers that had been put up on the walls when she'd been smaller... something she'd been careful _not_ to cover up as her tastes began to grow more complex.

Thankfully, Stan had not questioned the apparent _duality_ of her room which appeared to be caught between _Pretty Princess Dream_ and _Futuristic-Fantasy meets Post-Apocalyptic Nightmare._ Bebe had just about lost her shit when she first saw the posters, balking at the clash of theme and color, and it had taken nearly an _hour_ of explanation to get her to understand that Wendy was embracing _both_ sides of her interests- the part that was indeed feminine as US culture defined it, but also really dug into the kinds of worlds that showed up in these movies and TV shows. She had a hope that maybe Stan just _got_ it, but she had a greater suspicion that he just feared asking because he knew _full well_ the lecture it would trigger if it he did.

That said, she did notice his eyes lingering on the _Mad Max_ poster. Did he like that movie, too? She'd have to suggest they watch her Blu-Ray of it sometime.

It hadn't been easy, but she'd actually convinced her parents to let Stan spend the night. He was sleeping on the couch, of course, but it allowed the two of them to stay up late and meet up in her room anyway to continue the fact-finding tasks together. Having an extra set of hands capable of any random google search she called out while immured in her own investigation had been rather handy- he was her very own _lovely assistant,_ if that phrase weren't so intensely gendered towards utterly _decorative_ women... thus why she did not say it aloud. _But!_ She had to remind herself, now was not the time to reflect how deep she had to dig to find this shit- now was a time for _reporting._ Everyone was gathered, now, so it was time to begin.

"Alright, first things first- I wasn't able to find any news about Cartman disappearing. We've been in contact with his mom, and he's still not shown up. There's an amber alert out for him now, but no one has a _clue_ where he is."

" _Damn, he's_ _ **really**_ _committed this time."_ Kyle commented with a cruel edge. _"I can't believe he's found a place to hide that well for this long. Whatever, I don't even care what the fuck he's playing at."_

"Uh... dude..." Stan chimed in, although hesitantly. "I hate to say it, but Cartman's cat isn't the only one that went missing. Wendy and I have been getting reports all day- neighborhood cats have been _disappearing_ from South Park by the dozen. I know Cartman is usually a sack of shit, but it looks like it might not be him this time."

" _We've thought that before!"_ Kyle insisted, shaking his head vigorously enough that his video feed pixelated for a moment, the quality going back up as he stilled with a scowl on his face. _"Until we know exactly what's going on, I don't trust him further than I can throw him... which isn't very far."_

"I concur." Wendy interjected, hoping to reign in any bickering as quickly as she could. "But until he shows up there's not much we can do either way, so let's get started on the information we got on Miss Reynolds... I guess I'll start with this morning and the security footage I got off of the black box from the pet store- I e-mailed copes of important segments to everyone, but here's the break-down. Miss Reynolds approaches the counter, the clerk argues with her, she doesn't leave, the clerk comes around the counter and _almost as soon as he's not looking at the kitten enclosure anymore,_ they begin acting... strangely."

" _Strangely?"_ Kyle asked from his end, reclining back in his computer chair. Wendy could see his head turning slightly, no doubt hopping over to his e-mail to take a look at the mentioned clip. _"They picked a lock, that's already pretty strange."_

"Yeah, but you guys notice how _high up the lock was?"_ Wendy quested. "It was half-way up the door of a four-foot tall enclosure. The kittens aren't _big enough to reach it._ They stacked atop one another like a circus act to get to it; completely coordinated. It wasn't an opportunistic pile, each one had their place... or so it seems. It was right at the edge of the frame, and security footage really doesn't have the best resolution."

" _Jeez... I can see that."_ Kyle was squinting in the little video feed she was getting from him. _"Can't you like... use some tech wizardry and clean it up?"_

" _Witchery."_ Wendy correctly blandly. "And no. I can sharpen the image to an extent, but you can't just... _put more pixels_ into a picture. It was recorded at a low resolution for storage. I can't change that. What you see is what I've got."

"She did really good with it." Stan chimed in, having been her quiet shadow thus far. "It was _way_ worse when we first took a look at it."

" _Stan."_ Wendy gave him a look. Was he flattering her? Well, it was working. A faint pink flared up on her cheeks. "I mean, I _did_ do a lot of work on it..." Credit where it was due, she supposed, but she wasn't used to someone _reminding_ her that she was that good. It sorta just went without saying these days.

" _Back on target, lovebirds."_ Kenny's voice, with a faint snicker held back within it, reminded them about their task. _"So the kittens didn't just let themselves out, they were **organized** as fuck. What does that mean?" _

_Oh, shit, right, working. Work before play. Flirt later._ Wendy cleared her throat, flashing Stan an apologetic smile before getting back to it. She was suddenly more aware of him hovering behind her chair. "Right. Well, I'm going to save theories for the end, so let me get all the solid facts out there before I start spinning stories. The other big thing I got from the security footage was Miss Reynolds face, which was near center-frame so it was even half-decent quality. Borrowing a little facial-recognition from Facebook, cross-referencing with news article splash images, and a few creative dives into some semi-private databases, and... well, the paper trail gets _interesting._ Most of my evening has been digging into the better leads while Stan roots out the false positives, and the oldest thing I found was from _thirty years ago- apparently_ , Miss Reynolds used to be a citizen of Park County."

" _She's a local?"_ Kyle's surprise made his voice tick up a note. _"Wait, how old **is** she?" _

"According to the first article I found on the timeline, which I've also e-mailed to everyone, she was thirty-two when she was arrested for public drunkenness and disorderly conduct- that would make her about _sixty five_ now... though the way you guys described her, she looks older. I'm guessing stress-related reasons for that. _Anyway."_ Wendy cleared her throat, getting back to the facts. "A neighbor realized she was missing when the smell of her _twelve cats_ began getting out of hand, and filed a missing persons report, which kicked off the newspaper investigation. Following up with the local police who had put her in the drunk tank, it was found that someone came and picked her up under a false name, claiming to be her son. I guess the cops didn't wanna deal with her, so they just let her go in his custody. After that, she vanishes for a _decade."_

"Because that isn't _shady as hell."_ Stan tossed in his own commentary.

" _No shit."_ Kenny chimed in. _"Dee just went all stiff, dudes... I think this reminds him of the government agents that were on his ass all the time, how he mighta disappeared if they got their hands on him."_

"We thought that, too." Stan agreed. "It's... really creepy how she just vanished without a trace. Besides the newspaper article, which was mostly obsessed with just how many cats she had, it's like... _no one cared_ that someone had gone missing."

"Her name is Amelia, by the way." Wendy added, trying to humanize their subject a little. She had to admit she'd gained a bit of empathy for the woman in investigating who she was. "Amelia Reynolds. She shows up again ten years and four months later, all the way in _New Jersey-_ it's another newspaper article, on about a crazy woman who got evicted, and when the landlord came to kick her out found the place abandoned with approximately _seventy_ cats inside, all in reasonably good health. There's some mentions that she may have been mentally disturbed; a few character reports from her neighbors, but the juicy stuff was in the police database- photos of loose leaf pages that had been scribbled on. Most of it is just abstract pen drawings with cat motifs, but there's a repeating phrase in the margins- _'They tried to steal it'._ Again, e-mail."

" _Shit, **now** we're getting creepy." _Kyle shuddered. _"And holy cow, **seventy** cats?"_

"Yeah." Stan confirmed. "None of them brutalized or neglected, either- the vet interviewed in the article was really surprised. Most hoarders who collect animals can't keep them healthy."

" _Wait, what about those grisly pictures you showed to Cartman earlier?"_ Kenny asked.

"False positive." Wendy sighed. "It was early in the investigation. Anyway, everything else I've uncovered has been a lot like that- news articles crossing the country from the east coast and heading west. It looks like she settles in a new place, gets forced out, leaves an impossible number of cats behind in her wake, and just keeps heading west. But things are _different_ in the last year- it appears _that's_ when she entered Colorado, and that's when she's started _stealing._ Family pets went missing, pet stores were robbed, entire populations of felines just _disappearing_ to show up wherever it was she got chased out of when the authorities got involved. Sound familiar?"

" _So you think she's made a new base near South Park? And she's... gathering cats? **Why?"**_

Kyle, with the important questions.

"I think she might be powered." Wendy responded. "Like Dee- in the way that she may have legit super powers; namely, the ability to communicate with and-or control cats. My theory so far is that the stranger who picked her up from the drunk tank thirty years ago was a government agent who used the opportunity to take her without a fuss. Whatever happened during that _decade_ where there's no news of her, it seems like something... _bad_ happened to her. Bad enough that when she got loose, she _ran as far as she could without crossing a border._ I mean, really, _why else would someone go to Jersey?_ But she made her way back... And her behavior has grown erratic in the most recent reports. Almost _desperate."_

" _She might have realized she's getting old and decided she doesn't care if she gets hurt anymore."_ Kenny observed in a somber tone, very near to the voice he dropped into for Mysterion but without the gravel. _"People do crazy shit when they've accepted their mortality... she could be out for revenge if she no longer cares about risks to her well-being. But why is she gathering up local cats?"_

" _If she's messed up in the head, maybe she can't help it? Like an OCD thing?"_ Kyle suggested.

Stan leaned forward enough over her shoulder that Wendy could see him nodding at the camera in her peripheral vision. "That's what I thought. If Wendy's theory is right, they might have _done_ something to her that messed up her head."

" _Hold up."_ Kenny called out for a pause, the image from his video feed flickering with another light- the square luminescence of another smartphone, with the shadows of fingers tapping at the screen to type out a message. _"Dee says he's gonna try and contact Kartwright about this- if there's some kind of government bullshit going on, the Doc might have information that could help us find where Amelia is hiding out. Even if it's not some shady agency that picked her up, there's apparently a database of suspected powered persons in the system."_

" _But what are we gonna do if we find her?"_ Kyle quested. _"Ask her nicely to stop stealing cats?"_

"If she's going to put them at risk with whatever she's doing, I want to stop her." Stan proclaimed. "She might not be afraid of getting hurt, but those poor cats shouldn't have to be put in harm's way... and maybe we can _help._ If there's some shady shit going on near South Park with someone else who might have super powers, isn't that worth looking into?"

" _Me and Dee are in- I'd say **Operation Pussy Patrol** is a go." _Kenny declared.

Wendy choked. Did he _really_ just call it that?

* * *

 _Shitfaced cunt nuggets, just went I thought I was done dealing with shady government bullshit._

Agitated didn't even _begin_ to describe how Dee was feeling when she arrived with Kenny at his house. It was late- the place was mostly dark, save for the ambient light of their old-as-shit TV as it remained on before Kenny's sleeping father. The man was passed out amid a small burial mound of beer cans, the smell of cheap alcohol and bodily gasses creating a stench that caused the pair to pass him by as quickly and quietly as possible while he snored against the sound of an obnoxious infomercial. At first there seemed to be no sign of his mother, but dim light and the distinct smell of weed were both leaking from beneath the door to the master bedroom.

It appeared both adults of the house were currently immured in their own chosen escapism, and for that the house was deathly quiet as a crypt.

Uncomfortable as it was, it was better than going straight home as far as Dee was concerned. She'd rather hang out for a few extra hours in her own escapism than go back to the drama that was going on at her house. Ducking into Kenny's room felt almost like a haven compared to all the _shit_ that was on her mind right then.

 _Family bullshit, and another person with super powers... because **that's** the way to make my Thanksgiving a great fuckin' time._

Without invitation, she went straight for Kenny's _ragpile_ of a bed. She sat on the edge before flopping backwards, laying there as she heard him retrieve and put on his customary orange parka. When he entered her field of vision, standing above her, he had his hood up but the zipper undone.

"Comfy?" He asked, eyebrows arched.

 _I'm pretending._ Her silent response came with flattened brows and a faux smile that didn't push her cheeks. She wasn't sure she could be comfortable _anywhere_ at this second. Too much had happened today- the robbery, Cartman gutting her room, _Cartman seeming to be kidnapped,_ the heist on the pet store, her _family,_ and now a possible new person with powers in town who might have suffered at the hands of a government agency... that was a _lot_ to take in one day. Too much, and it felt like a spring was winding tighter and tighter around her spine the more she thought about it. There was this intense urge to _get up and do something,_ but what could she do? She'd already fired off an inquiry e-mail to Kartwright, but there was no guarantee the woman would turn up anything, or even agree to co-operate. Besides that, she didn't know where to look for Cartman, and she didn't have a fucking clue where Miss Reynolds- _Amelia,_ might be hiding.

"... wanna punch something?" Kenny quested flatly, as if he could see all the different thoughts bouncing about her brain.

She scoffed softly. Usually the answer was _yes,_ but she just didn't have the energy left. She was the strangest combination of _totally wound up_ and _utterly exhausted._

 _Thanks but no thanks._ She waved a hand at him, dismissing the offer.

"Don't forget that Butters's mom invited us to come see him get released from the hospital in the morning."

Her eyes screwed shut, that final bit being just the thing she fuckin' needed. _That's right, she did when we dropped off the hamster with her. She was so goddamned sweet about it, too, there was no way we could say no... and I **do** wanna see him. **Fuck** there is just too much going on right now._

She felt Kenny's weight hit the bed next to her. At first he just plopped down on the broad edge, legs hanging off, but he squirmed his way up to actually lay down as if he were going to call it a night, burrowing into the layers of bedding that had accumulated over the years. Among them were at least two pillows that he'd salvaged from her room when she'd been about to throw them out for whatever reason. Maybe he'd want the comforter that Cartman fucked up with his stupid Coon claws... though it felt kinda rude to hand off that sort of stuff to him when she could get him something _not ruined_ instead. Or maybe she'd try to patch up the messed up one before handing it off to him... _augh,_ but her stitch work was horrible compared to his.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a nudge came to her shoulder. She thought he'd just been getting comfortable, but a twist of her neck revealed that he'd lifted an arm to create a gaping cave of bedding... and invite her into it. That's what she was reading, right? A silent invitation to come join him away from the ambient chill of the room-

 _Snuggled up against him like some kind of couple or some shit._

All at once, all the thoughts fighting for her attention evaporated in the wake of buzzing warmth on her cheeks. Somewhere, in the back of her head, was a pragmatic voice squalling _bad idea, terrible fucking plan, mayday!_ but that voice was tiny and easily shushed but a much more excited and jubilant cry of _yes please!_ Hesitation came in the form of nerves, in the fact that she had this physical _bubble_ that was rarely breached by others, that she was not always so eager to be _touched..._ but maybe that was a sort of _starvation_ in the end. She'd been deprived touch due to fears, and those fears seemed rather _silly_ right now.

She held off only for a few seconds before shifting herself, rolling to put her back against his chest and settling in. With his jacket left open, she was able to wiggle her way against him and feel his bony body against her back. Mild heat which had started as blush across her cheeks had bloomed into a fluttering warmth in her gut, confused and elated as the arm he'd raised to invite her fell over her middle and curled slightly to pull her in, all the layers of accumulated bedding falling along with it and finding her encapsulated in a rustic cocoon of sorts.

The bed was lumpy as hell, but suddenly she felt as snug and comfortable as she could remember being in her entire life. She wanted to tell him so, but could find neither the courage nor the words to speak. The very _idea_ of opening her mouth made her stomach flop over with a ticklish sort of agony.

"... we're totally gonna be _out_ to your parents pretty fuckin' soon, aren't we?" He asked softly against the back of her head. She could feel his breath against the unruly mess that was her mop of hair. It only added to the awareness of how _close_ they were... and the more she thought about it, the more her heart crawled up into her throat, pumping at a frantic pace when she felt him bend to actually _nuzzle_ into the floofy mess. How could he be so _comfortable_ with being so _tactile?_ It wasn't like he was being pushy or grabby, nothing about this felt like he was trying to take advantage of her- instead these touches felt like they were meant to be _comforting,_ but- _but-_

 _STD soaked glory hole dicks, he's fucking right- mom and dad aren't stupid. The way he stood by me when Vernice was grilling us..._ _ **fuck**_ _it's pretty obvious, isn't it?_

She hefted a sigh, nodding a little. Somehow, his presence let this one issue be the singular one she thought about. She wasn't going to bend her brain on _how_ that worked.

"Think they're gonna try to split us up?"

She scoffed. _They can fuckin' try, they don't own my life._

Her head felt heavy- hazy warmth was radiating from where he held her, and it made keeping her eyes open particularly difficult.

He let out a tired snicker. She felt his legs shift, knees bending to introduce more points of contact. There was a sense of _security_ that came with all the different touches. _Safety_ that she rarely perceived.

Inches from falling asleep, there was a tiny knock at the door that shocked Dee back into a wakeful state. Her body jolted, which extended to Kenny, who sleepily gasped like he'd also been at the very edge of oblivion. All at once, it rushed in on her as to what she'd been doing- _cocksucking cowboys sucking horse dick, what was she_ _ **doing?!**_

"... that's probably Karen." Kenny whispered lowly. "You gonna duck out the back?"

She didn't want to. She would have rather burrowed completely into the pile of old blankets and hid while Kenny comforted his little sister... but she knew full well that she needed to go home.

Quick before she did something _else_ that was completely stupid.

The cold felt particularly biting as she left him behind, slipping through the secret passage in his closet to leave tracks in his back yard.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _LOOK AT THAT INFO DUMP._ I tried to make up for it with some cuteness and feels.

I got pithy with the chapter title again XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	10. Failure In Vigilance

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Failure in Vigilance::**

It had taken Eric Cartman no less than two hours to realize that his wrists had been bound behind his back with a single-looped knot; the sort that could be easily pulled apart, even with the limited mobility of his hands. Two hours of crying out, sobbing, screaming, and throwing the _mother of all tantrums_ in a desperate attempt to attract the attention of _somebody,_ _ **anybody**_ nearby.

There was a point where he became angry- it occurred rather early. His cries for his mother turned to intense cursing of every person he even mildly suspected of being behind his abduction and unceremonious dumping. When anger became exhausting, the firy burn of it began to give way to a cold edge of _fear._ It was a frozen knife-point that ran down his spine and shook his system with a terrible chill as a thought came upon him that he might be well and truly alone; abandoned, helpless, blind, and lost. That this may not have been anyone trying to humiliate him, but a real attempt to possibly _kill him_ by dumping him off in the wilderness.

That fear brought on real tears. What had been the insane braying of a two-year-old inhabiting the body of a pre-teen turned into the pathetic whimpers and honest sobbing of a lost adolescent who was certain of his own powerlessness... and all-out crying inside a rough hood got gross, _fast._ More pressing, however, was that wriggling about in the snow led to sodden clothes, soaked through with freezing melt and made colder by the biting wind.

 _I've been left behind. I might die out here._

Maybe the first realistic thought he'd had since his cat had gone missing, early that morning, and it was a horrible one. The kind that chased him right back into the fantasy of The Coon.

 _ **The Coon would not die here.**_

It was a few moments after that, after literal hours of sobbing and shivering in the cold, that numbed fingers finally realized there was a loose lead on the rope that held his hands behind his back that he could pinch and tug. Said rope had already worn his skin down to blotchy red hell from all his struggling, pinpricks of skin torn by the rough fibers stinging terribly with every wiggle of his wrist as he grasped with his fingertips and pulled on the trailing end. Eventually he felt the loop pop out, and the knot loosened for his wrists to twist free in to the burning embrace of the wind.

 _ **Liberating himself with nothing besides his wits, The Coon was free!**_

Celebration came in the form of an ugly smile that was mostly covered in snot and composed of intensely chapped lips as he was finally able to shake the restraints off and pull the rough hood off of his head. Finally, for the first time in _hours,_ it was time to get a look at wherever the _fuck_ he was.

A glance around wasn't encouraging. Late afternoon light streaked the sky in vibrant orange and delicate pink, making a few scattered clouds look like puffs of cotton candy as shadowed underbellies appeared dusky violet and fluffy edges that caught the last rays of the sun highlighted in bright fuchsia. It was an intensely _picturesque_ backdrop, one that almost made Cartman wish he had his camera to capture the way dark navy shadows of the treeline were falling against the snow in stark contrast to the glittering flakes that covered the ground, but a mixture of _cold, hungry, and wet_ made the scenery his enemy. He stood next to a narrow lane that was a mixture of overturned gravel and ice- not even _paved,_ though it appeared someone had plowed it out. Looking in one direction, said lane disappeared into dense woods, evergreens rising up on either side. Looking the other way, he could just barely make out the gray strip of much more effectively plowed out roadway that he could identify as the highway.

First course of action was to go for his cellphone. Hands dug into his pockets, and he retrieved the device... to find it either dead or broken. The screen was black and it wasn't powering on.

" _Son of a..."_

 _ **Abandoned and alone, left for dead, The Coon had no choice but to fight his way back to civilization. A new threat had come to his city- perhaps now he could rally his allies against it, but he'd need to make it back to warn them, first. Once they realized the peril they were all in, perhaps then they'd realize just how much they needed his amazing abilities to lead them against it.**_

"Fucking _hate_ hitchhiking. Someone better have a fuckin' sandwich. Fuckin' _weak."_

* * *

[ Subject ] Urgent  
From: "AssMaster9001"  
To: "DocKartwright"

I have a situation here that could really use some extra information if you've got it. Understand if you don't, figured I'd ask.

Amelia Reynolds, arrested thirty years ago for a drunk and disorderly, disappeared for a decade. Affinity for cats. Disappeared from Park County. Reappeared in Jersey, been chased by the authorities, she is here in South Park. Cats are going missing, friends and I are investigating. Any info would be useful. We suspect she's powered, in relation to the cat affinity.

Also, when the hell are you going to be bringing the data on my family from when they were being studied?

[insert witty signature here]

[ Subject ] re: Urgent  
From: "DocKartwright"  
To: "AssMaster9001"

I thought you were on vacation, kid? What happened to 'I'm just gonna take a break from the bullshit and try to live normal for a hot second'?

Believe it or not, scientists studying virulent pathogens don't get access to the database of powered people flagged by the US Government... and I have the very distinct feeling that my every move is being watched right now. Since I got back from DC, the bosses have been pressuring me to go take a vacation- the same bosses who were on the edge of firing me after my experiment fell through. You ordered the dicks from Washington to lay the fuck off, but I don't think they extended those orders to the people directly above my head... and I don't appreciate dicks on my head. I really don't. Not my idea of a fun Saturday night.

That said, I'll give it a try. I'll send you whatever I find in the morning.

And I should be in your neck of the woods before Thanksgiving. It's not the kind of vacation my bosses had in mind, but if they're gonna push me to take some time off, then I can use that to pay for a plane ticket to Colorado.

Keep yourself safe, kid. You mighta gotten the men in black off your ass, but that's no reason to relax.

-Dr. Haley Kartwright, PHD

* * *

Dee had suspected as much when she read the e-mail she got in return from Kartwright. She knew it was a long shot; just because one required clearances to work with possibly world-ending diseases in the halls of the CDC didn't mean that Kartwright had access to every shred of information that the government had to offer on the abnormal and strange. They were their own insular information network, with their own roadblocks to keep things on a _need to know_ basis... and a load of bureaucracy to keep things even dumber than that- an issue that Kartwright frequently complained about. She described it as a _if you are willing to move a mountain and someone can be bothered to let you know_ system... which gave Dee a distinct impression of why the woman always had such a lack of _patience_ with people. She could relate to having to go to hell and back for simple fucking shit.

Walking back to her home, she noted her phone's battery- 17 percent. It had maybe an hour left in it, probably less, but it was enough to get her home... but that thought filled her with apprehension. What if her grandmother had decided to spend the night? What if the woman was _still_ arguing with her parents, carrying on in her entirely rude manner? She didn't _want_ to walk into that situation. Staring at her phone, there was a very intense temptation to just tell her mother that she was going to stay the night at a friend's place and run back to Kenny's house. He wouldn't mind, right? Ah, but would she even have the guts to crawl back into bed with him? Whatever. She'd sleep in Karen's room over going home right now.

She decided. She tapped over to the messenger app while stopping beneath a dim and flickering street lamp, her shoulders shivering in the cold as her hoodie offered little defense from the bitter wind that kicked up snow crystals around her. Pulling up the messenger conversation with her mother, she sent her text.

[Sent, 10:56] Gonna spend the night at a friend's place. Ms. Stotch is gonna pick me up in the morning to see Butters get released from the hospital

Pressing the send button felt like an act of rebellion. She hadn't _asked_ her mother, she'd _told_ her, and she very specifically had not said which friend's place and hoped that social stigma would keep her mother from calling all the other moms at this time of night just to figure out where she was to come drag her back home. The feeling in her stomach spun in circles of _ugly guilt_ and _angry thrill-_ it was her mother's fault that Grandma was even _there,_ anyway. She was the one who had decided to get reconnected; her and dad. Why did _she_ have to suffer for their shitty families and their shitty decision to talk to them again? If _Grandma_ was that bad, what was the rest of the family even like?

Did this count as running away from home? … it felt kinda like it, but she hadn't announced any intent to stay away indefinitely.

Adrenaline wore on her tired system, striking raw nerves that had experienced far to many hot bursts of intense energy that day. She nearly jumped as her phone buzzed, and she blinked blearily in the dim light as she realized her mother had responded.

[Received, 10:58] I understand, sweetie.

[Received, 10:59] Please be safe, I'll see you tomorrow.

 _That_ response had not been expected. She figured she would either suffer a long silence and no confirmation that her message had been seen, or be hit by a barrage of messages demanding she come home this instant before her parents called the police to find her... then again, maybe she'd earned an extended leash in recent months. Something about running the President out of town and saving a friend from a potentially fatal gunshot wound in the same night, without getting murdered herself.

Well, okay, that was only half true. She had gotten murdered that night, but there had been _two_ of her. That hardly counted.

There was another thought that attacked her, however- _What if her mom was letting her go without a lecture because she would just make shit more awkward with Grandma?_

 _ **What if I'm not wanted at home?**_

[Received, 11:00] I love you, Lyssie.

She blinked. A simple enough declaration between mother and daughter, but it seemed to come in direct response to the horrible doubt that had been biting into her chest with vicious fangs composed entirely of pitch black despair. The horror of being _unwanted_ abated, but she found something else wriggling about inside her ribs instead. A squirming creature made of the _conflict_ as she read something else in that text besides heartfelt sincerity. Maybe it was a trick of her own mind, or a facet of projection, but she read an intense _loneliness_ in that text from her mother. In an instant, she felt _regret_ for her decision, like she was ducking away and taking the coward's way out by deciding she wasn't going to go home and _deal with this._

 _Well are you gonna go home or are you gonna walk back? Pick one, bitch, before our feet freeze._

A sharp sigh was let out, producing a cloud of fog in the chill air as she shut her phone off to preserve battery. Her decision was made, and Kenny wasn't guaranteed to have a micro USB around for her Android when he had been sticking with the iPhone for years. She might need that last few percentage points of battery in the morning. Her phone buzzed and flashed the manufacturer's logo before the screen went black. Satisfied, she tucked the object back in her pocket and turned on her heels to depart from the streetlight and return back the way she came.

To an utterly spent brain, the world could very much feel as if it were operating in a sluggish slow motion. Perceptions from various senses operated less in harmony and more seemed to block one another out, like several large files each fighting for bandwidth over a restricted web connection. One could be prioritized over the other, or all could come in at the same time with an extreme sacrifice to _speed._ At this moment, the sense that had greatest influence was _touch-_ the sensation of her toes slowly going cold inside her boots despite their thickness, the sharp stab of the breeze through her hoodie, and the somewhat woozy sway that came when she over-balanced in her one-eighty turn to retrace her steps in the snow. It superseded the muffled whistling of that breeze, or the faint ambiance of a raccoon digging through someone's trash in the distance. It distracted from the long shape her shadow made, thrown out by the single dim streetlight she'd been standing under and now wandered away from.

It distracted her enough that she almost didn't notice the second shadow that appeared along side her own.

Breath caught, and her ears finally informed her of important information that had been delayed- _the sound of footsteps behind her._

 _Running, running footsteps;_ they approached rapidly, closing in on her. It was fast, _too fast, sluggish limbs slow to react after a full day-_

A weight collided with her back, and she stumbled forward with a guttural shout.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Holy short chapter Batman!

Then again, the previous one ran a little long, so it all evens out in the end? And _really,_ there's no rule demanding that _every_ chapter land somewhere between 3000 and 3500 words. That's just my general benchmark for how long is 'long enough'

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	11. Unlikely Partner

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Unlikely Partner::**

The moment of impact was sufficient to kick enough adrenaline through Dee's system to wake her the fuck up. Mismatched tracks of stimuli came together as a split second of _pure horror_ pulsed its way through her skull, remembering all the times as a child that she'd been told that all manners were out the window if she were grabbed by a stranger. Associated memories flared as well, remembering all the times that she felt certain that she was being followed, being watched, or that there was someone waiting in the wings every second of every day for her to let her guard down so she could be _snatched away._ It was a sort of psychological _switch_ that threw her into action before she rightly knew what was happening.

The weight which had impacted her back threw her slightly forward, her arms throwing out to either side as her knees bent and sent her center of gravity low- those were reflexes. Her next move was to draw her elbows in, bringing her forearms up to bar her face- just in case there was a rag soaked with sleepy drugs involved in this equation. Finally, the rubber heel of her boot planted itself into the ground, the other leg dipping deeply to throw her mass forward as her upper body bent along a violent downward arc; the mixture of the motion and the twist was intended to throw off whomever had impacted her back before they could get a sure grip.

The move was a success- the mass of the person who had hit her was that of an adult, someone who already had to bend awkwardly to get at her, and who had not expected her to remain standing. Their knees had been unsteady, and she'd drug them slightly around and down. The seconds more she was allotted to understand this allowed her to act accordingly. _Bigger_ than her meant _wider_ than her, and she'd swung them off-center enough to make a target available. One hand clasped over the other, and left arm poured additional power into the right as the sharp point of that joint was sent back into the gut of the person atop her with as much force as she could muster.

There was a distinct _oof,_ as well a stream of cursing- or at least the tone was of someone cursing. She didn't recognize the words. Arms that had been half-wrapped around her shoulders to get a grip went almost completely lax, and gave her the opportunity to duck away from the person's grasp entirely. She turned herself down and out, backing up several steps and re-orienting herself with quick glances that gathered only the most necessary information. Her assailant appeared to be an adult male dressed in black with reflective patches of sliver, who stood wheezing and holding his gut just a few feet away from the light of the streetlamp. She didn't see any additional men, but she didn't trust the darkness around the light- _anything_ could be hiding out there.

That's when a key detail jumped out at her- the man was Hispanic. More than that, those reflective patches? They weren't patches, they were _tin foil._

She blinked. _No way._ No _fucking_ way- a chaos minion? Butters was in the fucking _hospital,_ and last she checked he didn't currently have the money to hire anyone. Even if he had gone into one of his _puckish_ moods and found the funds to pay migrant workers to do his dirty work whilst he was bedridden, what was he even playing at right now? Was he part of the cat conspiracy?

 _No time, no time, time to make some fucking time-_

Flexing her ass to rip one and halt the clock gave her precious seconds to scout. She was able to leave behind an afterimage of herself in rotten-smelling smog and wander freely, dealing her assailant an extra punch in the head with her first five seconds to further daze him before she began searching further outside the shine of the streetlamp. Tired legs were forced into a jog as she made a wide circle in the dark, seeking any hint of someone nearby that would be giving orders- either another minion with a walky-talky or a cellphone, or maybe even a foil-clad commander in the style of General Disarray; Dougie's retired alter ego after he quit the chaos crew a couple years ago. While she found neither, what she _did_ find made her heart sink- more minions, a total of three, waiting in the dark in case she made a break for it. There was a word for this sort of situation- _surrounded._

No doubt if Kenny were here, he'd be working through advantages and disadvantages in his head. The kid came up with plans on the fly like it was his goddamned dayjob. She, on the other hand, quickly defaulted to two options; either rewind the past two hours and hope her memory remained intact enough to inform the others that Chaos was involved in some manner, or smack the nearest sentry in the skull to give herself an opening to bail.

The latter sounded like more of a sure thing. In the last seconds she had before time resumed its normal ticking, she approached a crouched Hispanic man who was blocking the sidewalk behind her original position. It was the way she'd need to run if she wanted to get back to her partner, and it also led into the shitty part of town... a broken area of fences, junk, and half-constructed buildings that she happened to know quite well. In a flat out run, through the trash jungle, she suspected she'd be able to lose them. Wrapping one fist around the other, she used the combined mass of her hands as a bludgeon on the crouched man. Raw power for the strike coming from her shoulders as well as a downward bend of her entire body, and the muted echo of the smack getting caught in frozen molecules of air was a sound she knew well... and found intensely satisfying.

The hands of the clock slipped back into motion, and she was suddenly back where she'd been standing before. The disorientation lasted for a split second, but she didn't give herself time to shake it off. She was already tripping backwards as she heard two men curse fluently in Spanish- the one before her and the one behind her. It was the opening she needed to _get the hell outta there._

Unsteady feet nearly slipped on the icy sidewalk, the rubber soles of her boots being the only thing that assured traction as balance centers got back with the program, and her brain accepted that she was at a different position than the one it thought she was at. With the weight of her bones swung about, she threw herself into an all-out sprint that built momentum with every lunge. In seconds she was past the sentry, who was still contending with his sudden headache and unable to block her escape. In a few seconds more, she was far enough from the street lamp that her eyes began to adjust to the night time conditions and pick up the shapes of the world beyond the immediate engagement zone.

She let out a yelp as she came face-to-face with a truck that had been sitting with its headlights off, but now blasted her with high beams. The sudden light seared her retinas, and sent her skipping off in a 90-degree angle to the left to avoid what instinct told her was a possible head-on collision with the vehicle her assailants presumably arrived in. The engine had been off while it had been hiding, but she could hear the starting roar and grumbling chug of the diesel monster coming to life as she was forced off the road before she could actually make it to the wrong side of the tracks and the maze she intended to lose these guys in. Instead, she was cutting across an empty lot- heading north... and the truck that she'd just ducked away from didn't seem to have a problem with going off-road.

 _Cock- titties- fuck- balls- cunt- shitraininhell- belzebub'smanyheadedtentacledick- fuckFUCKFUCK **FUCK!**_

 _Fear_ did a great deal to make on forget fatigue and weight, and a plan gone awry in the first thirty seconds inspired a great deal of that fear. _Fight or flight_ was in full effect, and whilst Dee was heavily weighted towards _fight_ on most days, _flight_ was the right decision when it came to taking on an old diesel truck on one's own. Heavy boots and exhausted limbs were motivated into a flat-out sprint that she'd certainly be feeling in the morning, and she intended to be groaning about that in the back of Ms. Stotch's car on the way to see Butters get out of the hospital, _not_ wherever these assholes intended on taking her. She was crashing through undisturbed snow, at least a foot of it, sprinting lunges throwing her up above the the thick layer that fought to weigh her down, bouncing over the terrain with no idea of what could possibly be waiting under that white blanket to trip her and send her crashing forward on her face. Behind her, she heard the roar of the engine, and the beams that had blinded her were now throwing her shadow before her- as if it intended to escape without her.

Lungs were bursting, her heart was in her throat, and a vicious stitch was forming on her right side as she forgot to breathe properly. Running for long distance demanded paced breathing; in through the nose, out through the mouth, to create a steady underlying rhythm. At current? There was no room to think about that or even fall back on well-trained habits. Outright panic had her gasping sharply and grunting on the exhale through gritted teeth. There was barely enough active thought left in her head to identify a couple of trees that were growing up in this empty lot and realize that if she directed herself close to them the truck would be forced to go around them, which would buy time.

Time was good. _Time was always good._

She couldn't look forward. She put her head down once she'd directed herself at the trunk of a maple that had already shed its leaves and stood naked in the night. Vision was unimportant; she had a course locked in and it was all about putting down as much distance as humanly possible. At next glance up, the tree was significantly closer, but the truck's engine was louder. Gaining on her, despite having to contend with the snow cover as well- it was too much to hope it might get _stuck._

At the far end of the lot, maybe ten yards beyond the tree she was about to pass, she noticed another vehicle. _Another set of headlights._ They weren't facing her- no, it's nose was pointed to her left; pointed towards town. More than the headlights, however, the cab lights were on. It made it possible to see the size and shape of the car, to understand it was a nondescript compact, and get a glimpse at the occupant.

For the second she could manage to process anything, she almost wanted to believe she was seeing things... then again, she didn't want to believe her imagination could be that cruel.

 _Eric fucking Cartman was in the driver's seat._ He was still dressed as the Coon, identified by the ears still on top of his head and the mask still firmly tied over his face. He was actually turning himself in the driver's seat, she realized, the upright seat itself suddenly dropping into a reclined position so that The Coon could wiggle his bulk about and open the rear door, shoving it wide before sitting up straight again.

Even panicked, she knew full well what an escape route looked like.

Behind her, the truck's roar grew more subdued; slowed down slightly to tack around the tree she'd passed so close to. Every single one of those extra seconds was going to count, but she'd give it to Cartman- the vehicle was perfectly lined up for her to charge at the opening he'd made with everything she had left.

" _C'MON ASSMASTER, GET IN THE CAR!"_

Yep, that was Cartman. If there had been any doubt left to pound through her temples along with her pulse, it was blasted away as she heard the kid shout through a rolled-down window. As if in response to him, the truck snarled as it maneuvered around the tree and put on speed again.

 _Would they risk crashing into another vehicle?_

She didn't want to find out. The distance was closing. The world became contradictory in the way that arriving at the edge of the lot seemed to take an eternity, but if she recalled the span of time between the tree and dive-bombing into the back seat of the understated sedan she would have recounted it as taking no time at all. An excruciating instant, less than a minute, and she _flew_ through the open door in a blur of snow and wild red hair.

She'd barely landed when the vehicle moved, forward momentum forcing the door she'd just dove through to slam shut as the car _lurched_ from half-way onto the curb to return to the street and head towards the residential area of town.

Little by little, regular sensations came back. Dee found herself on her belly on the back seat of a vehicle that was just plain boring and smelled of pine air fresheners. There were a couple empty water bottles on the floor in the back, maybe an old fast-food bag peeking out from beneath the passenger seat. Usual things, but this was most certainly _not_ Liane's vehicle. She knew that car, and this was not that. Puffing lungs could not stop their heaving, and she rolled onto her back to let them come back down without the weight of her body squeezing them any harder than her diaphragm already was. Shaking hands came up, half-formed into fists as her fingers trembled and her face tingled from the cold wind that had been whipping past her face during her mad dash.

Her legs felt like ropes wound from rubber bands, worked into spirals so tight that the friction edged up on temperatures necessary for spontaneous combustion. She half-expected the snow that caked her cargo pants to be steaming off in response to the mass of heat that felt like it was rolling off of her person in waves. There was an intense urge to yank off her hoodie... but she wouldn't. Not with Cartman in the front seat.

 _Wait, he's like... twelve. Why is he driving?_

Her conscious brain was the next part of regular function to find its way back to her, and it forced her to sit up despite how good it felt to just lay in the back and _be a blob._ Despite age and temperament, Cartman was driving... fairly competently. He was among those who had gone through a growth spurt in the last year, so he was reaching the pedals without too much difficulty, and he even used his blinker as he turned right at the intersection before residential... which was taking them decidedly in a direction _away_ from where they both lived.

 _Son of a bitch, where is he taking me?_

Surprises on surprises, the ride was... _quiet._ Cartman hadn't said a word since her arrival. Or if he had, she hadn't been in a condition to register it. From the back seat it was hard to see his face, but she coulda sworn he felt... _tense._

Something was _wrong_ here, and it was more than the underage and unlicensed driver ferrying her to an unknown location with the cab light still on. Despite the effort it took, she motivated her legs to bend and crawled up between the front seats, clicking the button to kill the internal lights along the way- no reason to make it easy for an officer to identify a couple of joyriders in the dark. Passing up over the center storage cubby, she practically _fell_ into the passenger seat with all the grace of a hippo getting dropped out of an aircraft.

Cartman glanced to the side as she moved up. She caught a split second of his expression- wide eyes, raised brows, tight mouth; the _portrait_ of worry. The moment he realized she was awake enough to notice him, however, his expression changed. A wide grin broke out, and his mask hid enough that it was impossible to define sincerity.

"Holy shit that was fucking _awesome-_ I thought you passed out like a fuckin' pussy, but you're made of tougher stuff than expected, Douchebag."

A half-smirk appeared on her face. If her heart hadn't been pounding at 200 thuds per minute, she might have, but the still-throbbing organ was doing a great deal to keep her awake. Now that the adrenaline was easing off and the dopamine was kicking in, she was beginning to catch up with all the questions associated with this situation, not least of which was _where the fuck did The Coon pinch a car from?_ Quickly thereafter was _What is he doing back in town? Didn't this fucker get kidnapped this morning?_ The more she thought about it, the more fantastic the whole series of events became. A final thought hit her like a ton of bricks;

 _The Coon just honest-to-goodness rescued me from chaos minions. Legit. That just happened._

 _Medusa with dildo curlers, my brain hurts._

It wasn't getting much better- the vehicle that Cartman was piloting had brought them to the U-STOR-IT at the north-western corner of town. He went past the gate, turned in a tight U-turn that wasn't _quite_ tight enough to avoid going up on the curb for a second and violently bouncing them around immediately after, and then popped it into reverse to tuck the car against the sidewalk, facing the entrance to the place from several yards away. Duly parked, he killed the headlights and the engine, making Dee realize just how many _pitch dark fucking corners_ were in this town at night. There was a streetlamp over the entrance to U-STOR-IT, but even just a few yards beyond it? Desolate blackness.

 _Note to self, headlamp might be a permanent addition to the Buttlord uniform._

"You must be wondering what happened to me, Buttlord." Cartman- no, no, _The Coon,_ spoke in the darkness. It was that tone. He was back in character, with full drama applied to his speech. "No doubt you and the others have been searching for me since I was kidnapped today. Rest assured, my attackers were no match for The Coon, and I escaped with ease once I regained consciousness... but they'd taken me far into the wilderness, and I was forced to find my way back. Thankfully I came across a supporter of the Coon on my return to town, and they were _honored_ to lend their car to such a _super kewl_ hero as myself."

 _Translation, you hitchhiked a ride and found some way to remove the driver from the vehicle. If you were smart, you also stole their phone so they wouldn't be able to call the authorities. **Grand theft auto,** Coon Edition... do I wanna know how often you've done shit like this? _

"I wasn't able to see who attacked me, but they had been waiting somewhere in the Coon Lair to do so- which means they surpassed my amazing security. I suspect that Professor Chaos himself has ordered this operation, dodging suspicion by being hospitalized, but I have not yet identified the lacky carrying out his will, or his goal. Traditionally, _this_ has always been his base of operations... which means we're going to stake it out until we catch some of his minions leaving so we can follow them. My Coon Sense is telling me this has everything to do with the missing cats... we can't let this lead go cold."

 _We._ That was a dangerous word, particularly when it trapped her in a stolen vehicle with Eric Cartman for who knew how many hours. Worse when she wanted to punch him for even _suggesting_ that Butters ordered this kind of action- Professor Chaos had done some shit in the past, that was true, but he had never ordered bodily harm on anybody. While his stated goal was bringing chaos to the world and ending society as everyone knew it, the worst he'd ever done was the _toilet paper_ incident, and _she'd helped with that_ during her brief stint as a villain right after the whole Mitch Conner becoming mayor thing. Conversely to that outing and its general spirit, those minions had been ready to do _real harm_ and carry out a legit kidnapping. If Cartman was to be believed _[and fuck if that was a big cocksucking **if** ], _he'd been assaulted in his basement, kidnapped, and dropped out in the wilderness where it was fully possible he could have been mauled by a wild animal, picked up by a pedo along the highway, or simply suffered death via the elements. Not to put too fine a point on it, but if Butters was going to keep a captive, she was certain he'd ensure _basic humane conditions_ for said captive. Maybe even an extra pillow for them if they asked nicely.

Someone was using the Chaos brand, that was for certain, but she didn't believe for a _second_ that Butters was calling the shots. This was someone more dedicated to doing damage, or at least more blase when it came to causing bodily harm.

She rolled her eyes. She wasn't down for this. Despite dead-tired legs, she turned herself to open the passenger seat and let herself out. She was already calculating the fact that home was closer than Kenny's house, and the path back there was better lit; dealing with her rude-ass grandma would be better than sitting in a car with _The Coon_ all night waiting for chaos minions to make a move on the assumption that it was in any way related to the feline disappearances.

"Whoa, are you _trying_ to blow our cover? It's a _stakeout,_ Douchebag. These guys took out _me, The Coon!_ I get that you've got over-sized balls, but walking in there right now is _s-suicidal!"_

She blinked. Had that been a stutter over the last word? More than that, was Cartman... _afraid?_ He didn't admit it, not in so many words, but the fact that _he_ wasn't driving this stolen vehicle through the fence said something that she hadn't contemplated before this point. He was showing _restraint..._ something he only did when he was taking things seriously. When he was playing _his game._ She was so used to being the focus of those games, used to being one of the pawns that he drove across the board with pure assholery and manipulation, that she hadn't recognized the state with him as an ally.

Looking back, she saw that he had a hand half reached-out to catch her by the sleeve and stop her form going. His face was composed in something that really did look like sincere concern... but one never _really_ knew with Cartman.

She didn't trust it, nor like it, but there was more to notice than that.

The first detail she picked up about his hand was that his claws were gone, making The Coon uniform incomplete- a vanity defect that Cartman would normally never abide by. The second detail... was that it was shaking. No, not shaking- _h_ _e was shivering._ He hadn't stuttered; he'd shivered in response to the cold creeping into the vehicle now that the engine was off... _and_ because his clothes were soaked. She hadn't noticed before because of the rush of getting away, but there wasn't an inch of the kid that was anything less than damp.

Only her _legs_ were caked with snow, and the discomfort was enough to make her wanna go home and call it quits for the night; but he wanted to sit here, in the dark, with someone he probably neither particularly liked nor trusted, when he could have easily gone home at this point and cried until his mom tucked him into bed with a hot meal. That was weird, almost against character, for Cartman to put up with that kind of discomfort.

A question Wendy had asked earlier that day popped up in her memory.

 _'What if he did genuinely freak out about his cat going missing, and we're just... well, seeing how he_ _ **copes**_ _with that?'_

Like it or not, empathy kicked in. She couldn't leave him. Not when there was a chance that he _wasn't_ fucking with her. Still, she didn't abandon the hand that had reached out to open her door. Instead she raised her other hand, lifting a finger to signal to him: _Just give me a minute._

"Oh, s-shit, you g-gotta t-t-take a leak or something?" His teeth were beginning to chatter as more cold ate its way into the car. "Good p-plan, don't wanna piss your p-p-pants when it's t-t-time to go. Hurry up, someone could come around any minute."

She nodded. There was _no way_ she was gonna pop a squat anywhere he could see her, of course, and she didn't really need to pee... but she could exit the vehicle and mime as much at the corner of the fence.

The estimated time to 'take a leak' as he watched her back was more than enough to use the last bit of juice on her phone to turn it on and send out a mass text.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

HERE WE GO!

It is my head-canon that Cartman has done enough joyriding that he's actually a fairly competent driver, as driving recklessly gets you caught all the faster, and sometimes you just gotta get somewhere.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	12. Stakeout

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Stakeout::**

" _Jesus Christ, Buttlord,_ how long d-d-does it take you to fuckin' piss? How long were you holding t-t-that?"

Shivering was something Cartman couldn't stop at this point. Cold and wet simply meant that his body kept shuddering as a way of keeping itself warm, but it was _really_ hard to keep his in-character voice while his teeth were chattering. The temptation to leave this post and run home for a dry change of clothes was rather prominent, coming up whenever he had to shift in the driver's seat and his skin came in contact with some loose fold of damp cloth that had edged up on frozen. Ripping on Douchebag for taking forever seemed to be the best distraction from that temptation for now- _he couldn't leave this post._

He'd already worked through the other options. Storming the place didn't guarantee results; there was no promise that the mastermind was _in_ there right now; kids had curfews, and the voice he'd heard in that truck had _definitely_ been a kid. He mighta even fingered it as that ginger asshole that used to work for Chaos back in the day, but he hadn't seen or heard that fucker in _years,_ who knew what he sounded like? His balls coulda dropped by now. Even if it _was_ that kid- what was his fucking name? _Doug_ or some pansy-ass shit like that, going to his house and interrogating him would be more likely to get everyone grounded than anything else at this time of night. Gingers always _screamed_ like little girls when someone broke into their rooms via the window, and ginger parents were always so fucking _protective-_ the police would be called before they got anything out of the guy. And Professor Chaos himself? _Butters was in the hospital,_ sharing a room with his stick-up-the-ass father. Talking to Butters would mean dealing with Mr. Stotch, who was a bigger and louder complainer than the average white woman at a mall. Butters _was_ getting out tomorrow, but that was _tomorrow._

Those pictures Call Girl had showed him reinforced his resolve; there'd be no waiting until tomorrow. Not while Mr. Kitty was in danger of becoming that poor cat with infected wounds and missing fur. This was something that had to be done _tonight._

So he ripped on Douchebag for being slow as fuck in his bathroom break, because it was a handy distraction and it was better than thinking about how fucking _cold and miserable_ he was. Heroes didn't worry about that shit, anyway. Who could shiver when there was witty banter to be had.

Douchebag gave him a sidelong look, eyebrows popping up as he shut the car door and leaned back in the passenger seat.

 _Right. Banter with a mute. **Great plan.**_

Not a _mute,_ something else. He knew that. He'd known it since Douchebag first moved in- he'd spoken after throwing the Stick of Truth into Stark's Pond. At first Eric thought that the kid was just an asshole who kept quiet all the time, and took it as a personal challenge to push his buttons until the kid finally _burst..._ a game that ceased to be fun after a few months when he gained no results. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, Douchebag remained in silent defiance. Through games and school and everything else, the fucker didn't let out a peep besides the occasional grunt of pain.

It got to the point where Eric almost began to think he _imagined_ the kid speaking at all at the pond. Who could be _this_ committed to silence unless they were _actually_ incapable of speech? Or maybe the kid was broken somehow, disabled, mentally fucked so that he went through long bouts of inarticulateness. It seriously began to drive him _crazy._

And then Douchebag started hanging out at the bus stop.

Kyle had brought him in after the two of them had worked together on a school project, Douchebag apparently proving himself to be 'pretty cool' according to the ginger jew. Eric remembered already being _livid_ at the time, since he'd been actively trying to _sabotage_ Kyle's project only for his own to result in a failing grade and for Kyle's to come out smelling like the proverbial rose. It was at that point, with Douchebag standing at _his_ bus stop with his usual blank expression and stupid hippy-looking black knit hat, that he realized... he'd been underestimating this new kid. The fucker was _diabolical,_ fucking with Eric's head and making him think that Douchebag was nothing but a vapid empty shell, when in truth? He was a wily schemer, slowly working away the loyalty of Eric's friends. He'd stolen his way into the group! _Kyle_ thought he was a cool guy, and the fucker couldn't even make fart jokes! … though he could fart on command, which was arguably a joke within itself, but _that was beside the point._

Eric had done everything in his power to get Douchebag to leave the bus stop, from pissing where the kid stood every morning to manipulating school policy so that any more than four kids at a single bus stop was considered 'unsafe' due to a trampling hazard. However, tt seemed he never noticed the yellow snow, or if he did he trusted his boots to be thick enough not to care, and when Eric _did_ successfully get the school to change its bus stop rules? Kyle's _bitchy fucking mom_ got so worried about the trampling hazard that she just started _driving_ the whole group to school instead... because the only mom more protective than a ginger mom was a _ginger-jew mom._

Eric had nearly experienced a _meltdown_ sitting in that car, actually slotted in _next_ to Douchebag. Kyle, _practically_ Douchebag's _best fucking friend_ at that point, got the front seat since it was his mom's car, and the rest of them had ended up squished in the back. Douchebag hadn't seemed comfortable with it either; the closed quarters _bothered_ him, Eric noticed, so they'd both hesitated on getting in and ended up next to one another at the time.

And that was the day it happened. While Kyle, Stan, and Kenny were talking about how great it was to _not_ be on the bus and _not_ stand out next to the stop, rather _loudly,_ like they were out to make a point, Eric Cartman heard a single word muttered beneath Douchebag's breath.

" _Bullshit."_

A single word, but it confirmed that he was, indeed, _not_ insane for remembering this kid had a voice... and reminded him the convenienceof the bus stop when it came to needling people in new and unique ways.

The next day, Eric bent his creative prowess to getting rid of the restriction on the bus stop, and after only mild complications and a single PTA riot... life went back to the way it was, with one key exception. _Five_ boys stood at the bus stop now, and had in the years since.

Every once in a while since then, when no one else was around or when the others were being too loud amongst themselves to notice, Douchebag would say something. A word, a phrase, a short sentence- but he would speak when Cartman was the only person to hear it... only to go silent again when Eric announced it to the rest of the group.

Those days used to make Eric so _angry._ It was _psychological warfare,_ eroding his credibility with the others. As time went on, the kid got more expressive in the face- smirking sometimes as everyone told Eric to _stop lying for attention._ It had renewed his vigor to continue into years of attrition, always seeking out some weak-point he could finally exploit and force Douchebag to reveal his true articulate nature to _everyone,_ while secretly enjoying their conflict. It did put him into a special position, after all, a the only one who regularly got to hear Douchebag talk... even if it was for the sake of making Eric go ape shit. Just last year, he might have even begun to think that it was Douchebag's way of denoting Eric as his true favorite among the group- he didn't speak to anyone else, after all. Why speak to him unless somewhere, deep down, Douchebag considered them to be true friends with a unique connection?

 _Now?_

Now he knew the kid's voice, and he could die happy if he _never heard it again._ It had some kind of _power_ in it, power that could change the way people acted and thought. Change the way _he_ acted and _he_ thought. At a mock trial just a month and some ago, Eric found himself the target of not just a sentence or a phrase- Douchebag had come after him during a recess and _screamed at him,_ demanding that he, _Eric Cartman,_ surrender to the prosecution- led by Kyle. Kyle! After years of trying to get the kid to explode, he finally _did,_ and it was not at all like what Cartman had imagined it would be. Not only had he turned out to be a terrifying force when he found his voice, there'd been some kind of... after effect. Some kind of obsession seeded into Eric, different than his usual focus. There was something he couldn't define, wiggling around in his brain, demanding that he _do_ something, but he didn't know what it was. When it was given direction with the idea of a little prank at school with a singing contest, that prank was given his full attention and taken as far as he knew how to take it. It wasn't even something he'd _cared_ all that much about when he got the idea, but then it became the _only_ thing he cared about.

It was a whole new kind of manipulation, and it didn't require any artfully spun falsehoods or careful manipulation. Douchebag had smashed something into his head like one smashed down a stake with a sledgehammer, and even _he_ didn't seem to know exactly what he'd done... though it appeared he was _learning._ Something had happened at the singing contest that Eric had tried to force him into, something more measured, and it didn't seem as if the student body had suffered any ill effects. What they _had_ done was voted Cartman all the way up to second place in the contest, despite the fact that he hadn't even been there due to cracked ribs, compliments of Wendy after a little abduction incident that she took _way too seriously._ Douchebag had come to the hospital to deliver the prize to him in person... and then he'd played some kind of horrible sound from his phone, and spoke to Eric again- this time demanding peace, and offering a special tid-bit of information that would ensure their destruction was _mutual_ if they were to butt heads again.

Despite it being intensely outside of his nature to take any deal that wasn't weighted completely in his favor, Eric accepted. He felt like he _had_ to. _He'd been compelled to agree._

Eric swore, if Douchebag pulled out his phone anywhere _near_ him, he was going to smash it without question.

Awkward silence set in as Eric privately reminisced, his chattering teeth being the only thing that broke up the quiet. Nothing moved by the gated entrance of the U-STOR-IT. They didn't even have hot coffee and doughnuts- a _staple_ of stakeouts in every cop drama on the planet. Superheroes drank coffee, right? Of course they did. Everyone drank coffee when the situation called for it, and a stakeout without a cup of joe was a poor excuse for a stakeout.

Or maybe he just really wanted something warm to clutch between his frozen fingers.

Douchebag hefted a sigh, and his hand shifted over to the side of his seat. Suddenly it reclined to lay nearly flat on the back seat, and the kid was turning to crawl into the rear part of the vehicle.

"F-Fartlord, what the _fuck_ are you doing?" He asked, slipping back into _The Coon_ as he did. It saved a shred of his dignity. "T-t-there's not any snacks under the seats, I already ch-ch-cheked."

Douchebag didn't look under the seats. He made his way onto the rear bench and felt along the upper seam of the seats until he found something- one of those fabric loops used to pull the top of the rear bench forward and gain access to the trunk from within the vehicle. He yanked it, and the space opened up rather easily... though it was impossible to see anything inside in the inky black.

" _What the fuck dude?_ D-d-did you think I p-p-put the driver in the t-t-trunk? Trust me a little _less,_ why dontcha?"

He didn't react, ducking down and his upper body disappearing into the back. Eric snorted, returning his gaze front. He wouldn't be distracted by some dumbass being uncooperative and stupid.

A few moments later, the kid arrived back in the front seat with... was that a blanket? _Holy shit it was a fucking blanket._ Some brown scratchy wool kind of deal, but _fuck it it was a fucking blanket,_ and Douchebag was holding it out for him. He'd gone into the trunk to find out if the owner had been _boring_ enough to keep an emergency kit in their car.

Greedy hands snatched at the thick fabric, wrapping it around himself eagerly. At first it pressed the icy material of his costume in against his skin, but it didn't take long for his own shivering to create a pocket of relative warmth. "Holy shit, fucking _sweet!_ I should market _Coon Survival Kits-_ that would be a _hit_ here in Colorado."

Douchebag just nodded slightly, returning to his original state. He lifted the back of the passenger seat back up to straight, put his eyes forward, and returned to the task at hand.

"O-of course, I knew that something like that would be back there. The Coon doesn't miss stuff like that." He coughed, searching for a way to cover himself. _Obviously_ he hadn't needed Douchebag's help just to stave off hypothermia. "I was just... testing my fortitude."

His 'partner' glanced over at him, wearing a lopsided frown and cocking an eyebrow that didn't believe him for a second. In response, he doubled down.

"Cold resistance is very important in the mountains!" He insisted. "The Coon must train himself if he's to track villains to their holes, wherever they might hide!"

A faint scoff was produced, and Douchebag faced forward once again. It was a silent form of _whatever you say, dude._

" _Whatever!_ Maybe I don't even _need_ your stupid blanket then!"

He made no motion to take it off.

"You're not even in uniform! Why the fuck did you take off your costume, Buttlord- were you just going to drop everything in the middle of a mission? What kind of hero are _you_ if you quit a job before it's done?"

 _That_ got the silent kid's gaze to turn, sharply this time. Brows came down, eyes shining in the dark. Eric had successfully struck a nerve.

"You were near the Coon Lair when I was taken, you were practically a _witness,_ where the _fuck_ were you when The Coon was unconscious and being carried off by persons unknown? _This is all your fault!_ You, stupid Mysterion, and stupid fucking _Call Girl!_ You were all _distracted_ by her, weren't you? This is why you don't let _women on the team! They fuck everything up!"_

It felt like it was all falling into place. Buttlord didn't give a fuck about him or his cat- he was here because he felt _guilty_ for letting the kidnappers get away! And no doubt it was all because Call Girl was going off on some hair-brained theory and the guys were only humoring her for the same reason any guy had humored any woman in the history of time- _because she's pretty!_ Even the blanket- what he might have thought to be a gesture of peace and good will, was obviously nothing more than a fucking symbol for _forgive my incompetence and let me continue to bask in your greatness-_ _ **pathetic!**_ Did Douchebag think he was a serious _retard?_ That son of a bitch was gonna _pay_ by the end of this... right after he outlived his usefulness.

Douchebag's mouth folded in a thin line.

"That's right, just fucking _sit there_ and _don't say shit,_ because that's what you fucking _do!"_

The scene suddenly brightened. Headlights from an oncoming car, Cartman had to assume. He could see Douchebag's face in full detail now, the fact that pure rage was folded into his expression, that it looked like he might be about to haul off and _hit him_ for the second time today _-_

 _Wait,_ was it the second time? When did Douchebag hit him before? In his room? No, no, that didn't happen... that would have knocked Eric out of a window. He would have remembered falling out of a window. Still, those thoughts were beside the point, as the sudden searing brightness made the pair of them drop their 'conversation' and face forward to see where it was coming from.

A truck was driving down the lane, which took the turn into the U-STOR-IT facility. It quickly disappeared out of sight, vanishing among the buildings of storage units, but they both had recognized it. It was the one that had nearly run Douchebag down, and it had the same diesel chug as the one that had dumped The Coon off in the middle of nowhere.

 _ **Sometimes worst enemies have to put aside their differences for the greater good. Buttlord may have been one of the lamest 'heroes' in this city, and it's the burden of amazing heroes like The Coon to help the incompetent, no matter how much it slows him down. Maybe after this mission Buttlord would finally understand that he didn't have what it took to deal with the scum of this city, and leave justice to the real professionals.**_

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Because we can't just go straight from high action to high action, so have a Cartman-flavored breather; complete with flashbacks and recaps. XD It's also important to the engagement curve to give readers a chance to breathe in-between shit.

 _My engagement curve is very important to me._

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	13. LSD

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – LSD::**

[Received, 11:22] Cartman is back. He claims he was kidnapped by Chaos minions.  
[Received, 11:22] I'm willing to believe him, as several just attempted to subdue me. I escaped with his help.  
[Received, 11:23] We're staking out the U-STOR-IT in hopes of catching someone leaving so we can follow them  
[Received, 11:23] We're in a stolen car, gray sedan, Colorado license plate AFB-190, current tabs  
[Received, 11:24] Cartman is convinced Butters is behind this, but I don't believe it.  
[Received, 11:24] Wendy, when you see this you have permission to hack my e-mail. Hopefully Kartwright will have some information on Amelia for us.  
[Received, 11:25] Battery is about to die. Good hunting everyone.

* * *

The hope that any sort of back-up would arrive before this adventure shifted into its next stage evaporated at the sight of the truck pulling into the U-STOR-IT lot. Dee could only assume that everyone she'd sent her texts to had already gone to bed, and why not? They'd already done all the investigating they could for the day; there was no reason they _shouldn't_ havecalled it a night and gotten some rest so that they'd all be ready to come at it with fresh eyes in the morning. Even Kenny, who rarely stopped texting her before midnight, had a reason to be asleep at this time- namely the fact that they were both expected bright and early at the Stotch residence to go see Butters get released from the hospital and welcome him home. She was also aware that Kenny tended to turn off his ringer when his little sister had come to him seeking comfort in the middle of the night- _even_ when crazy shit was going on.

She was beginning to desperately wish she'd just stayed in Kenny's room, but there was no denying she'd be _useful_ here. Cartman riding off into the night by himself was practically a _guarantee_ that something would go horribly wrong, and that she and the others would have to clean up after him the following morning. At least being stuck with him meant she'd be present to possibly curtail anything _particularly_ disastrous.

Besides, she wasn't really _ready_ to go back to that moment with Kenny. There was something intensely distressing about feeling so _safe_ with someone when her general standard with people for the past seven years or so was to keep them out of her bubble or suplex them. That distress was made even worse by the fact that not even an hour after she'd damn near fallen asleep in that pile of blankets, she'd been caught off-guard and nearly taken by hostile individuals. She'd just been _violently_ reminded why she kept her guard up all the damn time... and yet it didn't change the fact that she still craved this new type of attention she'd been introduced to. _It didn't make any sense-_ and telling herself that did nothing to make her stop thinking about it. In fact, mental scolding only served to center it in the cyclical thoughts of obsession that mimicked a vulture's circle over her dying sense of personal restraint.

With a sharp sigh, she tried to dismiss it and return to the situation at hand. She buckled up, preparing for when the truck came back out... assuming it would. Maybe the minions were returning it to base for the night, and they were about to see a group of migrant workers wander out on foot to return to their residences for the night? Would Cartman insist on capturing one in that case? She supposed she could be party to an interrogation, but she _really_ hoped Cartman spoke Spanish, because _she_ certainly didn't.

"Seat-belts, Douchebag? _For seriously?_ You're such a fucking _lamewad._ Superheroes don't need fucking _seat-belts."_

 _Safety first, bitch. If you crash this car into something, I do not intend to go flying through any windows._ She didn't turn her soured face onto him, remaining attentive to the scene before them and contentedly letting the silence drag on in place of any sort of snappy comeback she might have served to her overweight 'partner'. She wasn't sure what annoyed her more; the fact that he was blaming _her_ for the current situation, or the idea that he thought his judgment on what was cool or not held _any_ bearing with her what-so-ever.

She'd muse on it later when she had some quality time with her punching bag. She paid Liane for copies of Eric's school pictures every year for the express purpose of taping them to her punching bag, carefully saving them for periods of maximum frustration... they had to last her all year, after all. Ruining an 8x10 before Thanksgiving would be a new record, and there was not a single universe she could fart herself to in which that was a good thing.

"Fucking gay-ass twat, can't even believe I'm letting you help with this... It's not like you fucking betray me every goddamned chance you get." Cartman grumbled in the driver's seat, huffing a response to her continued silence. "Like, for _seriously!_ I'm the only reason anyone even _likes_ you in this town, y'know? You showed up, I let you play with us, and you _jew out on me_ to go fuckin' help goddamn _Kahl._ Like... what the fuck, dude? What kind of asshole are you, really? Every single game we've ever played, you only got included because I _let_ you be included, and you always stab me in the back the second and opportunity presents itself. Now I'm doing something _serious,_ and... fuck you, I really should just send you home and do this without you."

She gritted her teeth. _Send her home?_ Did he suddenly think himself the parental figure just because he was behind the wheel of a reasonably priced compact car? If she believed in a higher power that could be prayed to, she might have considered doing so in hopes that the truck that they'd seen go in would finally come out again and save her from this lecture.

"I don't even know why I talk to you. You're so full of shit."

 _Don't say it, don't say it, dontsayit-_

"Must be like looking into a mirror, then." She noted flatly.

 _The setup was too perfect, I couldn't resist._

" _WHAT TEH FUCK DOUCHEBAG?!"_ Cartman's voice rose up into a horrified squall before coming down to a horrified whisper. "We made a fucking _truce,_ fuck-face-"

"To not get our friends involved when we butt heads." She responded, making an effort to drop her voice enough to sound at least mildly masculine. "I don't see any of our friends here... and I'm getting real sick of you acting like I'm the fucking bad guy here. _I_ didn't steal your fucking cat, so would you stop projecting already and _focus?"_

She'd finally twisted her head to look at him. He was glaring at her, leaned in over the center console. She did so as well, refusing to back off while he glared at her with the sullen intensity of a child. It was a staring contest in the pitch dark, neither of them giving ground and ending up nearly nose-to-nose.

 _Silence._

The rear driver's side door opened.

The pair of them jerked, simultaneously yanking around to look into the back seat and smacking their skulls together as they both attempted to take over the center space the vehicle. A stereo yelp of pain was let out, allowing precious seconds to pass by, and for an intruder to slip into the vehicle, shutting the door behind themselves. Rubbing her head, Dee tried to recover herself as fast as possible to address the fact that someone had just hopped into the car. The cab light had come on when the door opened, slowly dimming back to black after it shut again and giving her a darkening glance of the interloper- she could address the shape as a kid, maybe nine or ten years old, wearing some kind of costume.

A costume almost entirely encrusted in tin foil.

Just like that, it was dark, and all that was left was a _shape_ in the black.

A shape and a _voice._

"Please don't attack me." The voice pleaded. "I'm here to help."

The figure sounded feminine, but a lot of kids sounded kinda girlish before their balls dropped. The voice also sounded vaguely familiar, but it was hard to place a child's voice without a face to go with it. Still, tin foil usually bespoke someone part of Chaos's crew, and Dee didn't know anyone on that team who was feminine... and generally minions didn't switch sides until their checks bounced.

"Who the fuck...?" Cartman quested from the front before coughing and getting back into character as the Coon. "Explain yourself, vile minion!" He demanded.

"I'm not a minion." The figure in the back seat responded. "You can call me LSD. General Disarray and I were hired by Amelia Reynolds to help her capture cats in South Park."

Just when Dee thought nothing in the world could engage her again, a fresh zing of energy shot up from the base of her spine.

"Amelia _who?"_ Coon scoffed, shaking his head. "And General Disarray- Just as I suspected! But chaos minions have rarely been above trickery before- why are you here?"

 _You suspected Butters you fat assclown._ Dee frowned tightly, intensely tempted to tap the cab light to turn it back on and get a better look at their _guest._ It seemed as if the kid in the back were reading her mind, however, because she reached up and did it herself. With a press of a button, the child was illuminated, showing herself to be half-crouched on the back bench in a pose that was ready to make a break for either passenger door if this situation turned shitty for her. She, and Dee decided that she did in fact seem like a girl, was dressed in a costume that included yellow pants and pink gloves, but had been covered in tin foil in form of a heart-shaped breastplate, shoulder pads, elbow pads, knee pads, and wrist guards. Finally, she had a mask on that covered the majority of her face, once again forming a sort of heart-shape where the point of the heart covered her nose. She had a pink hat on, hiding her hair color, but Dee could see that she had blue eyes through her foil mask.

"I'm here to help." The girl, _LSD,_ re-iterated. "General Disarray has broken his word to me- in return for my participation, he promised that _no one, person or cat,_ would be harmed. I can't let things continue with how he's been handling the situation... so I've decided to help you two heroes. Coon, Buttlord- I understand you're here waiting for our minions and their transport to emerge. They will not, and our employer is back at base. I can lead you to her-"

" _But we'll have to trust you."_ Coon spat, shifting in the driver's seat to glare back at the girl. "Haven't you heard that super heroes is a _boys only_ club?" The fat boy quested. "What the fuck kinda name is LSD anyway?"

"It's short for my full title- and it doesn't matter, it's just something General Disarray came up with." The girl in the back waved her pink-gloved hands, a tight frown twisting on her face. "Listen, I can't let this happen, and you two are trying to get the cats back, _right?_ I'm just offering to be your guide."

 _But who the fuck are you, and how did you know we'd be here?_ Dee's thoughts were spinning out in a number of directions. She could believe that General Disarray was behind the attempted kidnappings. Dougie had been pretty heavily bullied on account of being the red headed kid with thick glasses, and bullied kids were truly capable of anything when they'd had enough. Using the chaos brand to get up to some kind of shenanigans was not beyond the measure of imagination, at all. The idea that he'd continued on in his life and made some new friends was equally plausible- this girl was probably someone else in his grade, one of his friends, brought into the scheme as Cartman had brought his buddies into many a scheme... thankfully with a little more gender diversity. But how had this girl _know they'd be here waiting outside the U-STOR-IT?_

 _How did she know that I'm Buttlord? Most of the town doesn't know that._

She blinked. A possible hit for the girl's identity crossed her mind, but it was a terrible consideration that made her feel more upset than victorious.

She shook it off. She'd concern herself with LSD's identity later.

"It's not like I can force you to go anywhere you don't want to." LSD continued, growing insistent. "You'll be driving."

"On the directions of some Chaos _bitch_ who just fell outta the fuckin' sky, claiming that she's on our side? What kind of _morons_ do you think we are?" Coon had dipped back into Cartman's default belligerent tone. "The kind who drive right into a friggin' trap? Douchebag, fuckin' drag this kid out and toss her in the snow, we don't have time for this."

 _Who the fuck do you think you're giving orders to?_ Dee's head twisted, looking to Cartman where he'd turned himself forward in the driver's seat, acting like that was that.

"What the fuck are you waiting for, a formal invitation? Fuckin' Christmas is coming, toss out the baggage and let's get back to doing what we were doing."

Dee glanced back to LSD where she was in the back. The girl had gotten tense, ready to bolt if Dee made a move to do as Cartman said. The pair of them made eye contact... and Dee became certain she knew who that little girl was. Such certainty made her somewhat sick to her stomach with a conversation she was going to have to initiate later on, but in this moment? She balled up a fist and punched Cartman in the shoulder, turning herself to sit in the passenger seat and look at him expectantly as he jerked to the side to look at her again.

"What the _fuck,_ Douchebag?! You- you're not telling me you wanna trust this pint-sized priss?"

 _Yeah, I am. And you better start driving before I kick **you** outta the car and try my hand at it._

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

 _FUCK WE ARE BACK!_

With a short chapter, but we are back all the same.

I apologize for the long pause in the story, hubby managed to get some time off of deployment to come visit home and I focused pretty much all of my attention on him while he was here. BUT! We are back on this crazy train, and it's a straight shot pretty much from here to the finish.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	14. Discordant Misfits

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Discordant Misfits::**

Karen McCormick was more than fully aware that her big brother was the hero known as Mysterion, who frequently worked with a partner known to the town of South Park as _The Farting Vigilante._

More frequently, however, the title _Buttlord_ was applied within her earshot.

Buttlord had been present a number of times when her beloved Guardian Angel came to rescue her from the dangers of the world- be that social ostracism by getting in with the wrong crowd or from an armed kidnapping. She'd gained a fondness for Buttlord, realizing that her precious guardian had gained a partner, a _friend,_ and she was happy for him. A little sad, too; worried that someone was taking her favorite person away, but she'd been finding her own friends in recent years. Other kids who didn't quite fit in, who needed someone to hang out with, forming an odd little mish-mash of a group. It was those other kids, in fact, who brought her to realize that her stalwart protector and her elder brother were one in the same. She'd told them stories about all the times he'd saved her, and they asked her a few pointed questions in return. How did he know where she was, and when she was in trouble? He had to be human, after all, an actual person who wore a mask and concealed his identity. _Who was Mysterion?_ And why would a masked hero concern himself with the well-being one of one specific little girl from the shitty side of town?

The answers to these questions pointed to a single individual, one who had access to the information needed to know all the things he knew, and always be there right when she needed him most.

She'd been so proud of him when she realized it. There was a reason her brother was gone all the time- he was trying to protect other people, too. She _was_ proud of him... but she also felt like some kind of _burden_ when it all came together in her head. Mysterion, after all, belonged to _all of South Park_ in a way... and yet he still took time out of his hero-ing to spend time with his little sister, to somehow make money and buy her cherished gifts, and still find the time to _sleep._ The more aware she became of just how busy her big brother was all the time, the more she felt desperately certain that she _needed to do something for him._

 _Something to say thank-you for everything he'd done for her._

That's why she had agreed when Dougie asked if she wanted in on a job. A _paid_ job.

She'd wanted to earn some money to finally do something for her brother. After all this time of him looking out for her and treating her and and making her feel like she was some flavor of _special,_ she wanted to finally give something back to him. Something that showed she appreciated everything he'd done, even the stuff he thought she didn't know about.

The job had been simple enough- go around South Park and open the doors on stranger's houses. She didn't have to knock, or ring a bell, or talk to anyone. She just had to go down a lane of houses and unlatch their door- not even pushing any doors fully open. Just enough so that it couldn't latch closed again so that if the house had a cat, it would be able to escape when their employer came by. At first Karen hadn't even known that much; she had to squeeze Dougie, or _General Disarray,_ for information before he'd even explain why she was supposed to do what he was telling her. Once he confessed it was about cats, she insisted further to know _why_ their mysterious benefactor wanted people's cats.

She was horrified that maybe she was being party to a mass kidnapping of people's pets, or maybe their employer was someone who worked for PETA who was going to kill them all and dump them in a mass grave. Those terrors had led her to refusing to join in on the plan until General Disarray could assure her that no one, animal or person, would be harmed- their employer wasn't _stealing_ cats, merely _borrowing_ them for a short-term purpose.

With that promise, Karen had agreed to join in on the job, and get paid for it. She'd gotten forty dollars up front, and was promised another sixty after it was over- more than enough to buy her brother a really nice gift. Or maybe she'd save it, and find other jobs to do until she could get him something _really_ great, like a new game console or something. It was her extra-special thank-you to her big brother for all the things he did for her. She had to find something _truly_ exceptional, and find the capital to obtain it.

Things had been going well, right up until she intercepted a barrage of texts on her brother's phone... which had been the _other_ reason Dougie brought her on board. _He_ was one of the friends who had gotten her to realize that the enigmatic Mysterion was in fact her elder brother, and he'd also had the foresight to know that once cats started going missing _someone_ might begin to investigate. General Disarray had told her, on no uncertain terms, that if Mysterion or any other _heroic-types_ got involved, things would get _messy..._ so, for the good of the operation, she'd been tasked with keeping track of his movements and those of his friends. She'd been reporting on him all day- when he'd left for Cartman's house that morning, his joint investigation at the mall, and the fact that he'd returned home with Dee at his side; his boyfriend/partner.

That was something else Karen had realized over time- the fact that Dee was _Buttlord._ It wasn't hard to put together once she knew who was under Mysterion's cowl. Buttlord was the only partner that Mysterion consistently kept, and the pair of _Kenny and Dee_ had been pretty tight for the past year or so. She'd suspected a long time ago that maybe Dee had a crush on her brother, and when they started dating at the beginning of the school year? She'd been quite giddy that her predictions had been correct... and that her brother was dating someone she personally liked having around. When she'd knocked on her brother's door that night, she had actually hoped that Dee would stay instead of scuttling out the back, but he had... and, like she'd been reporting on Mysterion's movements all day, she also reported on Buttlord's.

It appeared that the General had been using those reports to carry out carefully planned kidnapping attempts. She didn't know _why,_ though- it seemed like it was something that would just piss off the heroes in town and get them more involved. They all shrugged it off when it was _The Coon,_ but going after _Buttlord?_ That was the fast track to making Mysterion _very angry..._ if he had seen the texts reporting on it. Her brother had already been asleep by that time, however, with her on the edge of sleep herself. It was only the light that had attracted her attention, picking up her brother's phone and imputing the unlock code he'd taught her [in case there was ever an emergency where she had to use his phone] and discovering what exactly had been happening without her knowledge.

 _This wasn't what she agreed to._ She didn't agree to be party to attempted kidnappings, and Dee's description- that a bunch of minions tried to _subdue_ him? That sounded _violent._ General Disarray wasn't abiding by their arrangement... which was what led her to slip out from beneath her brother's arm and return to her own room, hastily changing into costume and sneaking out the front door of her house.

And now she was here, in the back seat of a stolen car, piloted by an underage and unlicensed driver, directing him to where Amelia Reynolds, her employer, was gathering all of the cats she'd obtained.

"Take the next right." She instructed, having memorized the route from the one time she and Dougie had been brought out there with Amelia herself. The old woman seemed kind enough, and in the presence of felines she was actually quite lively and friendly; like a sweet grandmother who was still pretty fit; the sort that did power-walking a couple times a week, and still had an active gym membership.

That ride had been kinda scary; sitting in the back of a truck with what had to be five dozen cats or so, and a strange woman who was paying them to go through their neighborhood and systematically encourage feline runaways. Karen had been suffering a very particular fear at the time; that the wind whipping by them as they drove down the highway was going to sweep one of the sweet little kitties away, but they all stayed low to the bed of the truck and didn't so much as _chirp_ throughout the ride, strangely quiet and subdued. Despite this odd happening, Karen had stayed aware of exactly which turns they took and which roads they ended up on- paying attention to her surroundings was another thing Kenny had taught her. He'd given her a lot of instruction on how to keep herself safe.

"Where the fuck are we even going?" The Coon snapped, though he turned his blinker on and slowed at they approached the turn. It was a side road off of a two-lane highway, striking off at a 90 degree angle from the deserted thoroughfare that connected South Park to the outside world. "We're in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. You're fuckin' lost, aren't you?"

"I am not." Karen, or _LSD_ as she'd announced herself, responded flatly. The letters stood for Lieutenant Sweet Disorder- something Dougie had come up for her after seeing what she'd scraped together for a costume. She supposed it was on-brand for the Chaos crew, but she didn't really like it all that much... she'd have to come up with a different name when she wasn't signed with the _bad-guy_ crew. "This road leads to a cabin that Amelia rented. She's using it as her home base of operations. We're almost there."

"What the fuck is she even stealing all the cats for?" Coon persisted. "Is she running a _pussy fighting_ ring?"

"She didn't tell us a lot on what her plan was." Karen admitted softly. "Just that the cats were going to help her as she searched for something."

In the passenger seat, Dee stiffened. He glanced into the back seat, but looked forward again, not breaking his customary silence.

Karen would bet that the crew of heroes gathered around her brother had found out a thing or two about her employer, but expecting Dee to spill the beans was wishing upon a long-dead star... which was, in fact, what most wishes upon stars were; a fact that Ike had informed Karen of with glee not very long ago. She was still mad at him about it. He could make _anything_ depressing, half her age and constantly spouting out facts that people _twice_ her age frequently did not know... then again, they were often _depressing_ facts, seemingly put out there in what felt like spite towards other people's naive happiness.

Sometimes she wondered why she hung out with that kid, before remembering it was the same reason she hung out with all of her friends- they didn't fit anywhere else. Dougie was the red head with thick glasses and a lisp he was in speech coaching to learn how to control, Ike was a child genius who had been skipped up so many grades that no one knew how to talk to him, and Tricia was... _done._ Just so very, very, _done._ With everyone and everything. _Done and angry,_ and the more teachers told her to be happier or friendlier, the more _done and angry_ she got.

She wondered if that's how Kenny ended up with his group of friends. Were they just the cobbled together outcasts who couldn't fit anywhere else, so they fit with each other?

Her silent considerations were interrupted by the headlights of their stolen vehicle alighting on a closed gate marking someone's private property, the gate attached to a cattle fence that extended off to either side and into sparse clumps of evergreen trees. Cartman pulled the car into a stop, and Dee let out a sharp sigh before unbuckling his seat belt to get out and inspect the gate, finding it just chained shut with no lock. Unraveling the chain only took a moment, and the gate was pushed aside for the car to pass on through once he was safely back in the cab and away from the bitter outdoor cold.

"Wait, wait, you guys are just gonna... _drive up?"_ Karen protested as they passed the gate, expecting that at _some point_ a plan was gonna be discussed. "Aren't you going to figure out a strategy of what to do? Shouldn't we leave the car somewhere and go on foot?"

"You got any bright ideas, little miss _drug reference?"_ The Coon coughed, shaking his head. "Raccoon are wild animals- The Coon _thrives_ on improvisation."

She'd take that as a _no, now stop asking me questions I didn't think about._

From the passenger seat, Dee fired out with another sharp punch to his 'partner' hero. It appeared to be his main form of communication at the moment, and it caused The Coon to slam on the breaks and bring the car to a sharp stop as the thin tree cover surrounded them. "What the _FUCK,_ Douchebag?! It's just a fuckin' old lady and a horde of cats! We've handled fucking _way worse_ than this before! You're gonna puss out on me _now_ and act like shit's actually serious?"

Karen watched as Dee gave Cartman a hard look in the consuming dark of the vehicle's cabin, lit by nothing but the dim glow of the dash board. From her view, she could only see their silhouettes in profile, where Cartman's shape was round, but large and imposing, with the pointed snout of his Coon mask adding to his overall mass in the dim green light. Meanwhile, Dee's face in profile was sharper, chin upraised and his slightly upturned nose creating a picture of indignant insistence.

After nearly a minute of this lights-out staring contest, Cartman let out a huff. " _Fine, fine,_ _ **fuckin'**_ _fine."_ He shifted the car into park, killing the headlights to plunge them into true darkness and effectively initiate _stealth mode,_ looking into the back seat to address their personal mole. "What can we expect when we get in there, LSD? You better be fuckin' honest with us, because you're coming with as a hostage."

Another stiff hit from Dee- Karen got the feeling that The Coon probably had a bruise on that shoulder by now.

" _FUCK!_ Okay, _we won't,_ but I'm seriously right now- if you lie to us about anything, we'll totally tattle to your parents about you being out so late, and you're gonna be _so fuckin' grounded."_

 _My parents aren't really the grounding type... but still, I get your point._

"I _told_ you, I was only on board for this scheme back when no one was getting hurt." She insisted. "General Disarray lied to me- so I'm switching sides. Simple as that."

"Which makes you a fucking two-faced traitor." The Coon concluded. "Thanks for admitting it, now you know why you're not trustworthy _at all."_

 _God, why does my brother hang out with you again? You're just... sad._

Dee was winding up again, and Cartman must of seen it out of the corner of his eye because he cringed. _"FUCK! ALRIGHT!"_ He put his hands up, remaining in the position of surrender until such time as Dee put his fist down, at which point The Coon continued. "Fuckin' _punch-happy prick..._ Alright, LSD, tell us everything you know about what we're walking into."

Karen made a slight nod. She wasn't sure how much she could help, but the fact that she'd gotten these two to listen was a start. Shifting on the back bench, she leaned forward slightly and took a deep breath.

 _I'm standing up for my values. I'll find another way to make money... later, after this mess is cleaned up._

"The cabin has two entrances, one up front and one 'round the back..."

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

Another short chapter, but we're heading into the final straight of this story.

A quick heads up that the day after tomorrow I will be on a plane to Seattle, spending no less than 18 hours in the air. Some of that will probably be writing time, but there's no guarantee whatever seat I get on the plane will have a plug for my computer... or if I'll be low enough on the anxiety scale to actually _write._ We shall see.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	15. Thick as Thieves

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Thick as Thieves::**

Kenny jolted awake in the middle of the night. It wasn't uncommon for him- his limbs flopping about as his body experienced a moment of raw panic during the lapse of consciousness that was sleep. Sometimes his lapses in consciousness were lapses in _being alive,_ after all, and every now and then his sleeping brain would remember that and suddenly wake him to ensure he hadn't been shuffled loose the mortal coil any time recently... or, at least, that was _his_ theory about it. Maybe he was just as tightly wound as a wild deer and prone to anxiety attacks in his sleep; the point was that he was awake and a groggy glance at his phone informed him that it was only a few minutes past midnight. _Hurray._

The first thing he noticed was that Karen was no longer present. She'd wrapped up in a cocoon of loose bedding and snuggled up to him just as he'd been falling asleep, and with how long today had been he hadn't hung on for more than a minute or two before he'd been out like a light with one arm flopped over her. It wasn't all that weird for her to slip away in the early morning while he was sleeping; she'd gotten old enough that she was _embarrassed_ about taking refuge with her big brother on nights where she was scared or just restless... but for her to go back to her room in the middle of the _night_? That was a little odd.

The next thing he noticed was that he had a barrage of messages on his phone from Alyssa... which, according to his phone, were _read._ Again, not all that strange. Alyssa claimed that he tended to text her well past midnight most nights, when his memory did not often extend that far. In checking records of these claims, he'd found that he did indeed appear to text in the strange space between wakefulness and sleep, and that he got less and less coherent the longer he tried to continue a conversation past the point of what could be considered _conscious_ , and the likelihood for him to rant about subjects ranging from titties to squid rose exponentially with every minute past the hour of 11 PM. To be entirely fair, however, Alyssa _did_ enable him in that regard, in the fact that she would continue the conversation for as long as _she_ was awake, no matter how off-the-rails he went in complaining about the underappreciation of asymmetric boobies, or how freaky squid are because their heads are too fucking pointy and their eyes don't face front.

The weird part was that he hadn't responded. If he'd picked up his phone while he was half-asleep, why hadn't he tried to pick up the conversation, as per his nocturnal norms?

He blinked when he read the content of the messages, suddenly sitting upright in bed. Cold air rushed into his open jacket as he did so, but a harsh kick of that good 'ol fight or flight response had already made his body feel molten with the shock.

 _Chaos minions?_

It was mildly impressive that Cartman had managed to make it back to town all on his own without any sort of rescue, but that kid was plenty resourceful when it was required of him. A glance at the time stamp told him that he was nearly an hour late for a response. Alyssa's phone was probably _dead_ or _off_ by now; would they still be staking out the U-STOR-IT? Would he be able to wake the others and get Wendy online to find out if they had any information from Kartwright yet? Was this _actually_ a Chaos plot, despite Butters being in the hospital, or was it just someone using his brand?

He'd visited Butters a few times. He didn't seem to be in a chaotic mood, but the kid was pretty good at being devious when he wanted to be... and he had every reason to be angry at the world right now. He'd been hospitalized at no fault of his own; just caught in the crossfire of someone else's war. That seemed like the sort of thing that would send him that direction. Kenny kept _track_ of that sort of thing, so he could stay one step ahead of whenever Mysterion's 'greatest adversary' would strike next.

It didn't matter _who_ was behind it. Whoever the fuck tried to arrange the kidnapping of his girlfriend was going to get a Mysterion-branded knuckle sandwich.

Kenny was out of bed in a heartbeat, rushing to his closet to suit up and head out. He'd get in contact with the others en route- assuming he could wake them without waking their families. While plan A relied on help from his allies, plan B and C were already forming as he changed out of the outfit Alyssa had bought for him and into his 'uniform' to become Mysterion. The last steps were to lace up his boots, tuck in his pants to keep the snow out, and duck out the back way... but he hesitated just as he was crouched down and about to move the old piece of sheet metal that kept the hole in his closet covered and the majority of the cold winter air out of his room.

 _Should I check on Karen? She came in earlier, what if she just got up to go to the bathroom, and comes back to find me gone?_

A pang of guilt; he was about to dash off into the night and leave his little sister by herself. _Again._ It never felt good, but it felt progressively worse after he found out that she thought of him as her best friend. In the past, her _only_ friend.

… _she's a big girl. I'll take her out to the movies to apologize, after this is over._

With a short nod to himself, he pulled up the loose fabric of his cowl over his nose and pushed aside the cover, diving through the secret path to his back yard and out into the night.

* * *

The literal log cabin which was allegedly Amelia's hideout was perfectly rustic, and therefor intensely creepy. As Dee ventured up the drive, a way that was mostly snow-pack and ice due to lack of plowing, she was left with a distinct impression that this was where a serial killer would lure a victim to keep the police out of it.

Oh, _sure,_ with the lights on and a little bit of music the place would seem perfectly friendly, even _cozy,_ but the lights over the front entrance _weren't_ on. They were dark bulbs in wrought iron fixtures, the wire that supplied them with electricity a visible white line that connected them before trailing down on the left of the front door, pinned to the log siding of the cabin with wood staples; a tell that electric lights had been added to the place _after_ it's original construction. The front door was a heavy wooden thing which, according to LSD, hung on rusty hinges that squeaked when opened, and required a great deal of persuasion _to_ open in the first place. Before the wooden door was a screen door which also suffered from the same rust and noise issues, and was dusted with a thin layer of ice crystals on the lower half. Dee wouldn't be taking that route, but in her approach she ended up staring intently at that door and the cloudy glass window set into it at head-height. It had a spiderweb of cracks which had since filled with black grime, denoting a state of decay that brought to mind the idea of a broken and forgotten tombstone. Other front-facing windows were intact, but no light came from within. They were dark, making it impossible for Dee to perceive whether there were curtains or shutters blocking them, or if someone could be inside and looking out at her from the squares of pitch black.

Hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she hurried on to the side of the house while stuffing her hands into the large pocket on the front of her hoodie. Veering off to her left-hand side, she felt the instinct to duck low below the largest of the front windows as she crossed from the well-traveled and icy area of the front drive to the undisturbed snow along side the cabin.

She winced as her foot falls left clear evidence of where she'd been, but pushed on anyway.

Clearing the corner, she found herself confronted with the first sign of life thus far; a window on the side of the cabin, close to the back, that glowed faintly. The light was dim, flickering- the kind that came from candles. Against this light was a silhouette of something Dee could not identify at first... until she realized it was the shadow of at least three _cats_ being projected against the window by the light. Their shapes had molded together at first, but she could identify ears and body shapes after looking for a moment.

The sense of being _watched_ grew worse.

She stole her way around the back of the house, ducking so low she nearly crawled beneath the window with the feline shadows flickering against the cloudy glass. She remained low until she reached the corner of the cabin, straining herself forward to peer around the edge to the rear of the rustic and broken dwelling.

There was a dim light on in the back, hanging over a back door that, according to LSD, was much less noisy to open. _That_ would be her way in.

A glance left and right revealed no one, and the space at the rear of the house was only clear for a few yards before trees encroached, looking like a solid wall of foreboding black in the night and seeming to consume the dim yellow light that shined above the back door. That light did reveal a significant detail, however; there were tracks in the snow. From the back door, _hundreds_ of feline footprints could be identified as leaving that rear portal and dispersing into the woods... but there was no evidence of recent human foot traffic.

 _Kenny's rubbing off on me. I wouldn't have noticed that shit even a year ago. Fucker and his situational awareness._

Something screamed in the night. Stillness gave way to something shrill, something that _stabbed_ at the ears, and it made Dee jump as her heart took the leap into her throat. It sounded like it was coming from the front of the cabin, and a second later she identified the noise- _the screened door up front!_ It wasn't heavy enough to be the main wooden door, which meant someone was trying to enter from the outside, rather than someone from within coming out.

 _Titty-twister flavored ice-cream Cartman, you couldn't just_ _ **wait**_ _in the fucking car?! I was going to signal you, you fat fuck!_

Inner cursing aside, there was no longer any time to waste in the attempt of being sneaky. Dee moved around the corner quickly, approaching the rear door and trying to handle to find it unlocked. Lucky break. Opening it, she stepped inside.

The cabin interior was about as rustic as the exterior. She'd stepped into a mud room with a concrete slab as its floor and a woven rug with a pair of flats on it. The space was small, with another door to her direct right. She kept her shoes on, and opened it, stepping up onto the wood flooring that was the primary design for the cabin proper. From the mud room she had stepped into what appeared to be a living space. She could see the window she had observed from the outside, as well as a trio of cats lounging on the sill and looking entirely unbothered by the presence of a stranger. Between her and them was a table, upon which sat at least a dozen candles, creating the dim and flickering light that cast their shadows on the dirty glass. Around the table were three chairs, each with knit cushions of varied colors, suggesting that they were likely made by hand. Further in was a dark fireplace, with wood at the ready but no flame... which might have explained why it was only mildly warmer inside the cabin than it was outside.

"Such a quiet night, and yet everyone comes to call..."

Another step in allowed Dee to peer into the rest of the main living space. Before the fireplace was another rug, sitting beneath a coffee table. Beyond that, a couch that had seen better days, possibly better _years._ On that couch was an old woman, whom Dee recognized from the pet store as well as Wendy's research- Miss Reynolds.

With her were at _least_ a hundred cats. They were a living mass, on every available surface. At least two dozen were on the rug, curled up in lumps of four or five to cuddle against the cold, with one near the edge stretching out and digging claws in. Just as many were on the coffee table, sitting and staring at their uninvited guest with ears forward and eyes shining in the candlelight. Six on the sill of the dark window that faced to the front of the house, out into the dark night, one of which making a leap across to the arm of the couch where Amelia Reynolds herself sat in a relaxed state. Cats covered the couch in a feline blanket, as well as Amelia herself, no doubt protecting her from the chill as they lounged on her lap, along her shoulders, and cuddled in around her legs and torso. The other places on the couch were filled with more napping clumps, and the backrest of the couch had even more sitting like watchful gargoyles.

Behind her was the front door, which shook as it was pounded upon from the outside.

" _Do you hear me you fucking old bitch?! Gimmie my Mister Kitty back!"_

 _Yeeeeep, that's Cartman._

Despite the sound of someone having a temper tantrum at her front door, and someone else sneaking in the back, Amelia appeared unperturbed. She was calm, her own glassy wide eyes being not unlike the shining gazes of the cats all around her. Her glasses caught the candle flames as well, giving the appearance of two pairs of eyes where only one set of black pupils was focused upon Dee where she stood.

"A belligerent at the front, and a thief in the back." Amelia mused. "Who to deal with first?" She quested, but she didn't seem to be asking Dee. No, she looked at the cats pooled around her, a chorus of meows coming back to her in response as she gazed upon them, heads twisting about to look at her. "You're right, my sweeties... no matter, no matter at all, the search is already under way..."

 _She's talking to the cats? Either she's powered or she's completely crazy._

Cartman's pounding on the front door continued, though it didn't seem to be doing much good. The handle then rattled and turned, but... _"WAHT?! You fuckin DEAD BOLTED this shit-?! You're in the middle of fuckin' NOWHERE, who DEAD BOLTS a fuckin' CABIN?! A bolt isn't gonna keep you safe from THE KEWN!"_

Amelia's brows raised slightly, head twisting a little to glance at the door. She didn't say anything, but several of the lounging felines appeared to respond to her gaze but getting up and flooding over the couch in a wave to instead place themselves by the door. More meowing came as they gathered, as well as a some low growling and scattered spitting. _Agitation,_ but the cats weren't taking it out on each other as felines often did. They were all focused on the same thing Amelia was- the door.

 _Yeah, she's powered._

The shift left the rug a little more sparsely covered, and Dee took it as an opportunity to step closer without getting any tails underfoot. As she approached, she noticed a particular cat sitting on the coffee table- a gray cat with frazzled whiskers whom she'd seen before.

Mister Kitty- he was sitting right there, alive and well, watching Dee just as intently as all the other cats who had remained and were not sleeping. Nothing wrong, not brutalized, and making no efforts to escape... creepily staring with a focus she'd never seen the feline display before unless food was involved.

Looking to Amelia, she found the woman gazing at her again as she came closer. Step by step, she eventually arrived in front of the couch to look down at the lounging old woman.

"Well, _sonny?"_ She questioned. "You come in the back like a thief, what was it did you come to steal? I don't have anything left you can take- grab whatever you like... just leave my friends alone. We're not done yet. _We still have to find it."_

Dee's face turned to curiosity, maybe even a desperation to understand what Amelia was talking about. Eyebrows furrowed slightly, pinching together above her nose as her mouth grew tight. _What are you trying to find? What are you searching for? Why do you need all these cats?_

Amelia's own wide gaze narrowed for a moment. A quick _blink_ conveyed a difference of thought. "... not a thief, are we?" She muttered.

" _Okay, you're gonna... gonna fucking **regret-!"**_

Outside the front door, Cartman's voice had faded away for a few moments before it came rushing back with a heavy _BANG-_ the boy had tackled the door, it sounded like, with as much force as he could generate, and the old wood groaned under the treatment. The sound of his body slamming against the barrier made Dee jump again, jerking her head that way before looking back to Amelia once more, _pleading_ silently for an explanation.

"I know thieves- they're everywhere." Amelia's wispy voice gained a little more strength as she debated herself before nodding, deciding. "They've spent so long, trying to take it, _they tried to take it-_ not far from here. I know it wasn't far- I have to find it. Find where they tried to take it—" Suddenly her teeth grit, and her hushed voice became something vicious. Something _angry. "Find the **machine;**_ _burn it down. Melt it."_ She snarled, going quiet for a beat before she drew in a breath. All at once, she spoke sweetly again, like a kindly grandmother. "The cats have good noses, they know when something doesn't belong... they're only borrowed, not stolen- there's so much ground to cover, and not much time. They'll find it, then I'll send them all home; I promised the children I would."

 _Machine?_ What she said reminded Dee of Wendy's research, that in the police files she'd found scraps of paper found in Amelia's old hideouts with the words _They tried to take it_ scribbled over and over in the margins. To hear the woman say it, to see where mentioning it led her, _obsession_ was putting it lightly. And what was this about a _machine?_

" _... gonna fuckin' KILL YOU!"_

There was another violent impact with the door, and this time it _gave_ with a horrible cracking sound. Shoulder-first, The Coon came tumbling through as angry and agitated cats scattered and then converged on where he collapsed on the floor, screaming and hissing in a horrible mass of fur that Cartman _screamed_ under as a multitude of tiny claws and little teeth began to shred his costume and dig into the flesh underneath. _"Aaaugh- kitties! BAD KITTIES!"_

Amelia continued to look completely undisturbed by her much louder guest, but Dee couldn't just stand by while her 'partner' got shredded like last week's scratching post. She dashed around the couch, and as she approached the mass of cats suddenly ceased and dashed away, ears back and tails fluffed as Dee took a thoroughly _raked_ Coon by the shoulders and helped him up to his feet. His cape was in tatters after being under attack for only a few seconds, the band that held his mask in place just _barely_ hanging on. Ears an tail were mangled, and tares in the suit beneath had red drops of blood oozing out. The worst of it had been his arms and hands, baring vicious claw marks and bites. The left side of his face was similar, with a long raking from cheekbone to chin bleeding enough to drip down and off of his face.

"We don't suffer gatecrashers." Amelia intoned, her gaze turned away now. She was back to looking forward from where she sat on the couch, the back of her wispy-haired head facing them as nearly the entire force of cats shifted to gather around the door and hiss at the intruders. Fluffy fur and yowling cries made a clear threat to _both_ of them now; _get out or get shredded._ "The cats will return home after we've found it... do not interfere."

Cartman was on the edge of crying. Holding him, Dee could feel his shoulders shaking, one of his hands gripping over her shoulder to hold himself up as a tightening circle of cats tried to press them towards the now broken door and out of the cabin. Cartman, taking the sight of all these cats in for the first time, was glancing about frantically to get the lay of the land.

In his glancing, he spotted a cat. _His_ cat. Mister Kitty. He was on the back of the couch, having moved up as the cats in the cabin had moved in to drive them out. He had his claws dug in, the fur along his spine fluffed high and ears flat on his head. Dee sensed him stiffen, looked in the same direction, and knew exactly what was about to happen.

 _Oh, **fuck me.**_

" _MISTER KITTY!"_

Cartman, against all possible common sense, dove forward against the wave of felines, bleeding fingers grasping for his cat.

* * *

 _ **::The Author's Corner::**_

 _Say it with me my friends;_

 _ **GODDAMNIT CARTMAN**_

Also HI AGAIN. Why yes, it's been... a month since I updated this story. But I have good reason! I went on vacation! And now I'm back, and feeling much revived. For those who sent me messages during my absence, I thank you for your concern. Now that I've had some solid time off, I feel like I'm ready to come back and kick some serious ass on all fronts.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	16. Gas Powered

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Gas Powered::**

Dee did the only thing she could think to do when Cartman lunged forward in an attempt to grab Mister Kitty from the back of a musty old couch as at least a hundred cats were swarming around them, ready to pounce in a whirlwind of fangs and claws.

She grasped the moment to _undo it._ Going back even a couple of seconds would be enough to drag him out before he saw his cat, and avoid what would likely be the _death of a thousand cuts_. So she reached for that space in time that was only a few tics of the clock back, worked up her consistently gassy guts, and let 'er rip.

 _Nothing happened._ Oh, not quite nothing, the cabin smelled like a Spanish cantina that had been abandoned for about six years with a fully stocked fridge, and her butt wasn't quite so cold anymore, but Cartman's forward momentum continued far enough that he was able to snatch up Mister Kitty in his hands. The animal yowled as he yanked him up, defying dug-in claws and clutching the squirming feline to his chest as he stumbled back against his partner.

Dee experienced confusion, and then terrible understanding.

 _I haven't had a single meal at home today- **I haven't taken my medicine.**_

There wasn't a single extra moment to ruminate on that thought beyond the horrified realization that her time-travel abilities depended entirely on the horrific gas caused by medicine her parents used to sneak into her food when she was a child because they thought it would somehow make her social media abilities less potent and thus harder to detect. She literally got farts so bad that they had the ability to rip time, and had a strong enough asshole to control it- but take away the gas power and it didn't matter _how_ stiff her sphincter was; there would be no freezes nor hops to help her now.

There was a chain reaction as Cartman snatched up Mister Kitty. _All_ the cats in the cabin started screaming and spitting, pouring into the space between the back of the couch and the wall to create a writhing blob of whiskers, paws, and noses. More came around a corner beyond the wall on the right, no doubt from the rest of the cabin, increasing the mass of screeching and spitting cats which seemed to be breaking the laws of motion and physics as the blob they formed began to undulate as a single mass. It shivered and then suddenly surged forward, cresting like a wave that was about to crash down on two idiot kids and one very angry gray cat.

" _Oh shiiiIIIIIIT!"_

Cartman nearly didn't realize what was happening until the last second, when Dee seized him by the back of the shredded Coon cape and yanked him backwards to get him off-balance, turning herself to face the hole he'd made in the door with his best impression of a linebacker. She felt his weight shift as he went back on his heels, and launched out said hole with him in tow, dragging him along as he tripped over the splintered remains of the door, down the half-step up to it, and skidded his heels on the icy drive while the wave of cats crashed on the spot where they'd been a moment before.

He yanked away once they were outside and she stopped dragging him. "Holy _shit-"_ He marveled, staring back. Dee looked too. She could see the writhing mass of animals through the hole in the door, twisting in the darkness that was the front area of the house and blocking all of the dim light from within. It was like looking into a portal to hell, as shining eyes still looked at them from the mass as it retracted some, as if regathering itself after splattering down like water. "... that is just _too much pussy."_

She glanced at him. He still had Mister Kitty, firmly held by the scruff and now quiet but still intensely agitated. The cat had his ears flat back to his head, all fur raised, and a desperate look in his eyes as he stared back at the group of cats who had formed a living sea inside the entry to the cabin.

"Welp, I'm outta here." Cartman proclaimed, turning on his heel and moving to rush away

" _THIEVES!"_

An unholy scream came from within the cabin. Much like the rusty hinges of the door Cartman had opened earlier, but shaped by a human mouth and many times louder. It not only screamed, but accused, judged, and decreed death for the offenders. The undulating mass of cats responded to it, surging forward out of the cabin as a single mass and arriving in front of the house. There appeared to be even more of then now, shivering into an almost _upright_ mass the size of a vending machine of cat standing upon cat, shifting and morphing into a defined shape as even more individual animals began to arrive out of the woods. More cats, slipping between the trees that surrounded the cabin, bounding and bolting across the snow pack to join this mass and further engorge it. It was getting taller by the second, wider, shifting and changing. From the cabin, Dee heard something _snap,_ and thought it sounded like a door being slammed open against the wall it was set into- maybe the back door? Were more pouring in from the back woods, and surging through the front door of the house? She could not see, but if that were the case there were still even more coming around the house in a ceaseless flow.

"The cats are transforming!" The Coon proclaimed. "Buttlord, it's too much for you, _run!"_

 _Run where?_ Was about all she could think as she remained transfixed, staring up at this twisting mass of pure pussy power. She heard more clattering from within the cabin, no doubt furniture getting overturned in the rising feline tide. There was also a defined _thud_ like something had been drug down the half-step at the front, and she could hear something sliding across the ice. The thing before her had to have over a thousand pairs of eyes, all shining in the dark, as it once again shuddered and seemed to take a final shape. This liquid mass of cats chose to become solid at an unspoken command, and created something that had arms and legs and a bulbous central body- which had hoisted up one of the wooden chairs Dee had seen inside the cabin at its center. In that chair... was Amelia, with a singular fluffy cat on her lap that she stroked.

Her face was no longer kind. Her eyes were no longer wide. They were narrow, her glasses low on her nose.

" _We do not suffer thieves."_

"Buttlord, what the _fuck_ are you doing?!"

The thing shambled forward, its legs capable of moving as a single mass despite being composed of dozens of cats, taking thundering steps that closed the small distance that Dee had gotten from the cabin before she had stopped dead and stupefied.

It was too big to punch directly, and Kenny was always the one with all the clever ideas. Her legs were screaming _run_ but her brain couldn't decide _which way-_ back towards the car was one idea, but that would lead this _fucking monster_ back to LSD, whom Dee was 90% certain had to be _Karen-_ Kenny would _never_ forgive her if his little sister got hurt.

But the other option was to dash between this thing's legs and back into the cabin, hoping it couldn't follow.

She glanced back; Cartman had already begun to hoof it, clutching his cat by the scruff. She felt the ground shake with another step taken by the advancing cat monstrosity. He was looking back at her, eyes wide and terrified. He didn't wanna fuck with this thing- he wanted to get back to the car and _escape,_ flooring it all the way back to South Park, risking innocents and collateral damage in the process.

 _But he has the cat. She thinks we're stealing it. She's going to chase the cat._

" _THIEVES!"_

Dee's head twisted back as the mistress of the monster cried out again. It was almost right on top of her now, one of it's 'arms' upraised and the six cats that made up its 'hand' all yowling with claws and teeth out and ready for raking.

 _Alright, plan C._

" _CARTMAN, FOLLOW ME!"_

Dee shouted as she dove forward, barely escaping and hearing it as the ice where she'd been standing got carved up by so many claws. She rolled over her shoulders, sliding slightly as she tried to get her footing again and stumbling as she made her way to the half-step up to the door. She had no idea if Cartman would listen to her right now- all other manipulations had been using those noises that seemed to make people more responsive to her in the real world. Maybe he was too scared for mind control, or too fucked up, but there was no time to look back at that second. She needed to get inside, and start figuring out something she could use to fight back!

Half-way in the door, a heavy weight slammed into her from behind. At first she thought she'd been struck by one of those morphed limbs of the cat thing, but there were no claws involved. No, it was the hard and round shape of a shoulder, followed by the full burden of an overweight adolescent collapsing atop her with an angry cat in the middle. She barely got her hands out in time to protect her face from a hard impact with the cabin floor, grunting in pain as it was still a hard hit.

Cartman rolled off of her the moment he could, thank God.

"I swear to _God_ Douchebag, you better stop fucking doing that shit or I'm gonna rip your fucking throat out-"

She gritted her teeth as she pushed herself off the floor, feeling the urge to fire out and punch him again. She didn't, but she wanted to. Instead she glared at him, momentarily registering that he'd taken off the Coon cape to burrito Mister Kitty with it, putting an end to the cat's attempts to escape for the moment. He was quiet now, appearing to accept his fate with wide eyes and tiny constricted pupils. _With what claws, wide-body? You lost 'em all before coming out here. Glad to know I can get you to move if I need you to, though._

She looked back out the door. The behemoth cat monster was turning itself, throwing most of its mass into a 180 while balanced on one 'foot' and landing heavily enough that the whole cabin rattled.

"So you've got a plan to fuck that pussy monster, right? Because I _know_ you did not _force me_ to follow you in here with _Mister Kitty_ as a fucking _hostage. RIGHT?"_

 _That wasn't the plan, but now that you've suggested it..._ She glanced back into the cabin, looking for something they could use before that thing was on top of them. The mass exodus of cats through the place had turned a creepy but cozy cabin into a nightmare, the couch now ripped to shreds and the table, as well as the chairs around it overturned. The candles had fallen to the floor, and an edge of the rug in front of the fireplace had been set alight. The fire increased the light in the room, but also put a ticking clock on how long they could take refuge- the cabin was going to begin to burn soon. Coils of black smoke were rising up in that corner, and there just wasn't _time_ do deal with it.

Another step _thombed_ against the ground. The yowling was like the screams of the damned.

 _Shit sprinkles on a dysentery muffin, if I could just get a_ _ **pause**_ _or something-_ _ **FUCK**_ _why didn't I go home for lunch?!_

"Douchebag, seriously, what are we gonna-?"

"I don't _know!"_ She hissed back. She couldn't think with him badgering her! Did he _want_ her to cause some more brain damage by talking to him?!

"Oh _for fuck's sake,_ can't you just fart that thing back to prehistoric times or some shit and get it out of our hair?!"

 _Thomb!_ It had to be getting close enough to do damage. What did Amelia have in mind? Would she kill them both and possibly Mister Kitty? Or would her _Pussy Mech_ shape-shift into something else to come after them?

"I can't do _anything!_ I didn't take my medicine today- I'm not gassy enough!"

Cartman stared blankly at her for a moment. Certainly it was his sense of drama that caused him to take a pause when something the size of a house was drawing close to either crush or rip them apart. She didn't have time for it. She pushed up to her feet and decided to see what was in the rest of the cabin. There'd been a room beyond the living space, to the right of the entryway after going past a wall. She stayed low as the cloud of smoke from the corner of the room grew, grasping the corner as she quickly came around it and passed through an open doorway to a rustic kitchen. Table, chairs, more evidence of cats having scratched up everything, a window facing out the back that could serve as a possible escape route but nothing that offered up an idea for how to fight back against something so _massive._

"Oh, sure, just _leave us behind-_ you are just the fuckin' _friend of the year right now,_ Douchebag. Mister Kitty is _terrified,_ you've led us into a fuckin' _deathtrap,_ and it's on _fire._ Why don't you go out there and shout _her_ to death, huh?"

Dee blinked. Would Amelia listen to her if she attempted to command her and her cats? She already seemed mentally broken, what if it fucked her up the way it had Agent Short Stack? He'd _lost his mind_ and gone on an attempted killing spree through South Park- that's _why Butters was in the hospital._ She couldn't just casually break people like that. It was arguable that Short Stack fucking _deserved_ it and it still haunted her that she was _capable_ of damaging people that badly. She'd been cruel when it came to the President, but she'd also been very angry. Murderously angry. She wasn't angry at Amelia- she desperately wanted _answers_ from the woman. She didn't want to destroy her.

She looked back to find Cartman had followed her into this kitchen area, and was about to tell him _hell no,_ maybe even demand he think of something else _,_ but she was interrupted.

The cabin shook- not with the heavy steps of the creature, but with a hard impact to the roof. Dust shook out of the rafters, and timbers cracked and snapped as the roof above them began to give under an enormous force. Looking up, she could see the point that was giving in, and reached out to get Cartman by the elbow, once again yanking him out of harm's way- how many times was that tonight? – as one of the supporting timbers came down and bisected the kitchen, chunks of the roof falling in after it and opening up a skylight above the cabin. One end of the beam hit the old-timey metal stove, which made a squealing noise as it dented and ripped from its moorings to the floor and wall.

Dee smelled rotten eggs, and for once it wasn't her.

 _Sodomize the Thanksgiving turkey, it's a gas stove._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

And on that possibly _explosive_ note, we wrap up another chapter!

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	17. Botched Negotiations

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Botched Negotiations::**

Mysterion hadn't been able to wake anybody. Text messages and even attempted calls to his friends went unanswered, limited of course to their personal cell phones. Calling landlines would result in waking parents and inevitable punishments. There was a temptation to cut through the neighborhood and get attention by sneaking into their rooms via windows, but the risk of discovery and subsequent _grounding_ was weighed against possible help they could give him and decided to be _not worth it._ There was also the factor of _time,_ that the sooner he got to the U-STOR-IT, the more likely it was that someone was still _there._ In hopes of catching Cartman still on the stakeout, he gave up his attempt to wake the rest of the team and accepted that he was back to working alone tonight.

It felt weird. Maybe he'd gotten used to having a partner around. Not even having Wendy chatting in his ear made the run across town feel incredibly _lonely,_ despite the fact that solo work used to be his 'd cut straight through his back yard and the construction work beyond, sneaking through without disturbing a single hobo and continuing on at a steady jog. Arrival didn't take long, but his hopes of finding the stolen car Alyssa had described in her texts were dashed the moment he got close enough to see the streetlamp outside the facility. There were no cars parked on this dark street- it was _empty,_ save for a red kid's bicycle which leaned against the chain link fence like a forgotten toy.

Despite this, he still jogged the rest of the way up, until he was under that streetlamp and looking up and down the street for some kind of clue as to where they would have gone. Cartman obviously hadn't gone home- he would have blown up _everyone's_ phones and messaging apps the moment he had a chance, regardless of whether he'd returned victorious or was in need of some serious help. Alyssa, too, would have hopped on the horn the second she got her phone on a charger to let people know what was going on... which led to the conclusion that they'd left this place chasing a lead, and said lead hadn't panned out yet.

 _Or they're in trouble._

Somewhere behind him, the fence rattled.

Mysterion whipped around in a sharp circle the moment he heard it, and caught a glimpse of someone running into the storage facility through the links in the fence, as if they'd been clinging on the corner and suddenly turned to run. He could hear their hasty steps, fading away as the shadow vanished into the lanes of units.

 _Who the hell?_ Was the first question, but it was asked _as_ he was getting his feet into gear. He sprinted for the opening in the fence, coming around that same corner by grasping the pipe for a sharp turn and releasing it as he slung about. Straight ahead, he could see the receding shadow of someone on the run- shorter than him, a kid!

 _The bicycle._

"Disarray, is that you?!"

He shouted out, but the shape didn't respond, leaving him with no option but to chase and mentally griping that he'd done _way_ too much running today. Really, he didn't get how Buttlord could do extended runs around town and _never_ tire of it, and then go home and do even _more_ running on the elliptical machine in her basement. Sure, it did _fantastic things to her ass,_ but she seemed to genuinely enjoy getting from point A to point B on nothing but her own foot-power.

Whatever. Keeping up with her over the course of their partnership had improved his own sprinting speed, and he was catching up with the shadowy figure ahead of him in a hurry. They'd taken many turns to try and lose him, diving into narrow ways between storage units and always staying away from overhead lamp lights that might have put them into clear view. Mysterion didn't become single-minded in his chase, however, remaining aware of each twist and turn and getting a sense that he actually knew this path pretty well.

He was getting led to Chaos's hideout- his grandmother's storage unit that he operated out of.

 _It's a trap._

That was the extra push he needed to close the distance, just short of the figure ahead of him ducking into the last turn and towards an open unit that had been waiting for him at the end of this track. He threw himself into a dive rather than following them in, getting the kid cross-ways and knocking them both off balance as they rolled several times over the cement in a heap. The impact with the ground was hard, but Mysterion _had_ him tight around the ribs, and no amount of wiggling was going to get him to let go.

" _Disarray!"_ He barked out, getting his head back together and twisting the kid he'd captured to push him against the ground, getting up to his knees himself and peering down at his captured quarry- to for once find exactly what he expected. A certain ginger boy with a tinfoil uniform that had been familiar back in the day before he'd retired from the chaos crew a couple years ago, stuck on his back. What was _unexpected_ was that Dougie was neither whimpering nor protecting his face from what was no doubt an inbound ass-whooping. In fact, he seemed to _expect_ his capture, looking up to Mysterion with a smug _smirk._

"Mysterion, how nice of you to join me." Dougie sneered, despite a slight scuff his tinfoil uniform had taken as he'd been knocked down, a rent in the chest piece open up and showing the cardboard beneath it that gave the costume structure. He sounded different- which was normal. Kids _grew_ after all, God knows none of Kenny's friends sounded exactly the same year to year, and the last time he'd been within ear-shot of Dougie had been... well, a _while_ to say the least.

"What the _fuck_ did you do with my partner, Disarray?" Mysterion snarled out, getting up to his feet and hefting the General along with him, grasping the fabric of his black undershirt between sections of foil-wrapped armor pieces and staring the kid down through his thick glasses... also wrapped in foil. _Can't argue with a brand._ "Did Chaos put you up to this? _What's going on?!"_

The didn't stop grinning. More changes were revealed in the way that it appeared his adult front teeth were already in, dwarfing other teeth present in his grin and creating an almost rat-like appearance. "The Professor had nothing to do with this, Mysterion- I came out of retirement to make a little _quick cash."_

 _Thank God for small favors._ Butters was off the suspect list. Mysterion had suspected as much, that the General might have just been using Chaos's brand, but to what end? _And where was Alyssa and Cartman?_ They weren't here, but Disarray _was._ Worse, he'd been _hanging out,_ waiting for Mysterion to happen by and spirit him into the facility, no doubt to tangle him up and delay his running to the aid of his partner and his... _ally?_

Eh, even that seemed a strong term for The Coon.

Viciously, Mysterion shook the kid in his grasp, reminded that he was simply _bigger_ than Dougie and fully capable of roughing him up. If the General realized that, he didn't appear to be _worried_ about it.

"The Coon. Buttlord. _Where are they, Disarray?"_

"What makes you think that _I_ know?" The ginger child responded blithely, eyebrows raised up and his expression growing more smug by the second. "I didn't mastermind this operation, though I certainly added a little _Chaotic flair_ to it."

"Don't play coy!" Mysterion snarled, the glare from beneath his hood and mask turning dark. "Buttlord escaped your little _kidnapping attempt,_ I know your minions tried to take him. Now _where did they go?_ Are you working for Amelia?"

"You're asking the _wrong questions,_ Mysterion." Disarray smirked, leaning his head in slightly, as if he were sharing a secret with him. Through his buck-toothed grin, he quested; "How did my people know _where_ to find your friend?"

Mysterion blinked. Something clicked into place. He stepped back, releasing Disarray for and feeling as if he'd been struck. _How had the minions know exactly where to find Alyssa? How had they known she'd been coming from his house, heading home?_ He hadn't told anyone, Alyssa hadn't either. Neither had been in contact with the rest of the group. His first thought was somehow Cartman _was_ behind all of this, since he'd apparently been on hand for a rescue- but he still didn't know how that rescue had gone down. Nothing solid was there, and the motives didn't work out on the theory of Cartman staging his own kidnapping just to get Buttlord's help- he'd already had it before then. No, no, _who_ would have known where Alyssa was?

The question went further. _Who would have known exactly when to take Cartman from his house?_ The operation had to be _perfectly_ timed as to get the fat fucker and get out before anyone could see or hear anything. He didn't doubt Disarray's minions when it came to competence, so long as they were paid they were good at following instructions, but the question of _information_ gnawed at him. The only people who had known he was heading to help Buttlord and the Coon investigate at that point had been _Wendy_ and-

 _Oh God._

The read messages on his phone.

 _Karen?!_

Dazed, a second mental sucker punch left him reeling for several seconds before he refocused on his smug, sneering adversary. The idea struggled to exist in his brain, and yet? He couldn't snuff it out when it fit the facts. If he assumed that the party that kidnapped the Coon and the party that attempted to take Alyssa were the same people, he _had_ to assume their source of information was someone who could have told them about both. Karen knew he was heading out to investigate Cartman's place. Karen _probably_ knew that he hadn't come home alone and that his guest had left when she knocked to enter his room- and she had her own phone, able to text her own friends... and Karen knew the unlock code for his phone, something he'd taught her as a _just in case_ measure, meaning she could have known about the stakeout.

To say he lost his cool was an understatement.

The next he knew, General Disarray was on the ground, his glasses knocked off and skittering across the pavement, scratching up the thick lenses, the kid holding his face. It was irrational, instant, the sort of thing that happened in the blink of an eye, the cry of his victim drowned out by the pounding of blood in his ears. When Disarray looked back up at him, it was with a split lip that bled freely, and a look of shock that hadn't expected that kind of raw violence to occur without warning. Even then, Mysterion wasn't done, taking the aggressive approach and scooping up Disarray by his shirt collar, the other hand drawn back into a fist and ready to punch him again.

When he spoke, it was with a deceptively quiet _seethe._

" _What did you threaten her with? What did you do to her?"_

Disarray had finally found his fear... but it didn't lead to any answers. Instead, kicking and wriggling, he screamed out a single word into the night.

" _MINIONS!"_

* * *

Dee had broken glass in her hair.

It was something she shook off, once she realized it, scattering shattered bits from her and Cartman's rather _hasty_ escape from the cabin once she realized what was going to happen. The window she'd spied, thinking it would make a handy exit route, turned out to be exactly that... but had been a great deal more stubborn to open than expected. Breaking it with the leg of a broken chair, shattered in the collapse of the roof, forcing Cartman through ahead of herself, and finally diving through the opening had been a process that likely took less than ten seconds but felt like an eternity as terror gripped her chest, fully aware that _fire_ and _gas_ could meet each other at any second and kill them both in a fireball that came direct from hell with Satan's compliments.

Once outside, she didn't stop. She seized The Coon by the back of his shirt and yanked him along as she dug in to get as much distance as possible from the cabin, not looking back to see if the cat-monster-mech-what-ever-the-fuck was following them. She could worry about that after they were out of the blast zone.

It happened when they were just at the edge of the treeline in the back yard. A bubble of hot hair _smacked_ her in the back, sending her forward and causing Mister Kitty to wail as his over-protective cat-dad pitched forward and damn near on top of him; the first the cat had vocalized since getting bundled up in Coon's cape like a swaddled babe. The sound was less a bang than a _roar,_ though several other things came after that- the force caused things inside the house to be flung out against walls, those walls to give, the remains of the roof to pitch inward with terrible creaking as they resisted gravity after the initial burst before finally coming down with a harrowing scream of the timbers giving way.

Above it all was the yowling of a thousand cats.

The full force of the explosion had forced Dee head-over-heels, rolling on the ground and having to scramble in the snow to turn around and look up. The fact that she hadn't put on her hat tonight became a problem, candy-red curls falling in front of her face at the _least opportune time_ and instead leaving her to gape at yellow flames where their light overcame the floofy curtain. Blindly she groped out for some kind of support, finding a young tree that did the job of letting her get half-way up right and pushing her hair up and back out of her face to finally view what had happened to the cabin, as well as their pursuit.

The _creature_ had reeled back from the burning wreck that used to be a dwelling. The roof had completely collapsed in, with a large section of the walls around where the gas stove had been completely blown out, burning bits scattered on the ice. The cabin was burning quite effectively now, the remaining pieces alight and crackling, black and gray smoke coiling up into the night sky to blot it out. And the monster from which they'd been seeking refuge from? It had shied from the flames, a great deal of the mass outright _fleeing,_ decreasing the size of the monster from something that stood taller than the cabin to maybe only six feet high. Terrified cats, those who had abandoned the superstructure, scattered in all directions, hissing and spitting as they escaped the flames and their mistress.

The ones that remained seemed to lack the strength to keep the creature's coherence at first, wobbling and tripping around the edge of the burning building while trying to support the chair that Amelia sat in, still at the heart of it. Its steps still thumped, though they were not the great quaking things that could have crushed either kid if the creature had simply stepped on them. One, two, three lumbering steps away from where it had very nearly burned with the rest of the house, the mega-cat-creature steadied and regained its balance, and the cats within it spat out a challenge as if they were asking _that all you got?_

 _Shit. Smaller, but not exactly something advisable to go up and punch._

"... any more bright ideas, asshat?" Cartman asked from somewhere beside her. She hadn't looked at him since yanking him out of the blast zone. The fact that he was ungrateful wasn't a surprise to her.

"Yeah." She muttered back to him. "Cover your ears."

She'd let him figure that one out as she levered herself all the way upright, vaguely realizing that their speedy escape through a broken window had led to her clothes getting damaged. Her jeans had been ripped open, starting at the knee, and the left arm of her hoodie was in similar distress- they'd both need patching if they made it out of this alive. Somewhere in her adrenaline addled brain was the realization that she was _bleeding_ from the stretches of flesh below these openings, where the glass had caught more than fabric, but skin. The pain wasn't there right now, but there was the wet sensation of open wounds that she knew probably a little _too well_ for someone her age.

 _Replacements._ She dimly decided in the back of her mind as she abandoned tree cover to stand face-to-face with this snarling beast of too-many-cats, carrying their crazed mistress aloft. _Bloodstains are a bitch to get out, I'll just replace my clothes._

From her upraised position, Amelia appeared disheveled and _broken._ Her wispy curls had come together in stiffer and more disorganized tufts, her old and wrinkled face twisted into a glower as her glasses shined in the yellow flames of the burning cabin. Her clothes were singed, her fingers gripping tightly on the armrests of her chair and knuckles turning white from the stress. She had soot on her face, no doubt from burnt pieces of the cabin blowing by her when the gas blew, and it appeared the force of the blast had caused one lens of her glasses to crack. Despite all this, much like an alley cat who had been chewed and starved, she expressed no surrender. Her jaw was clenched tight, a set of teeth on display that were either her real chompers or some very good dentures as if she meant to threaten Dee in the same way an animal did.

Dee put her hands up, open palms, as if calling for cease fire or truce. Amelia's expression did not change... but the beast did not advance.

Over the noise of the cats, the crackling of the burning cabin, Dee spoke.

"We don't come out here to fight you!" She proclaimed, speaking earnestly as she could manage. "We are _not_ thieves, either- that cat doesn't belong to you! None of these cats do!"

Amelia's snarling expression tightened, lips somehow drawing back even further before they came together in a hard line, her brow furrowed down and creating a dangerous shadow over her gaze. "Child doesn't know what he's getting his nose into- doesn't see it, can't see it. You've stopped the search, _we need to search, needed the kitties to search-"_

" _What_ are you looking for?!" Dee demanded. "What did they try to take from you?"

The answer came back with violence. Amelia half-stood from her chair, leaning forward on her feline throne. " _ME! They tried to steal ME from ME! The kitties and I, our understanding, they coveted it, they tried to steal it- THIEVES!"_ Her last word was a squall, dragged out as the cats around her agitated, the beast undulating around her- the cats seemed to reflect her mood, her _rage,_ by all means an extension of her being at this point. " _Heartless thieves!"_ She reiterated, settling back in her chair but looking not at all soothed. "And you- _nosy children-_ poking where you don't belong- some kitties got hurt! They burned, they ran, too scared to listen to us anymore- lost in the snow, _cold, alone..."_

 _Sorrow,_ it shook in the old woman's voice for a split second.

" _PUNISH THE NAUGHTY CHILDREN!"_

As she roared, the cats within the structure began to react. There was a shifting around what could have been considered the shoulders of the creature, the cats that had faced out and stared with too many pairs of eyes spinning inwards to instead have their tails face the outside of the structure. Dee didn't understand the shift, staring dumbly and only taking a half-step back as she tried to understand this new development. Didn't cats put their butts in people's faces when they _liked_ them? Well, now she had at least _forty_ cat-butts facing her, and somehow she doubted it was a friendly display.

"BUTTLORD IT'S A _PISS CANNON!"_

She wasn't given even a split second to process the fact that Cartman screamed at her- a heartbeat later she found herself tackled from the side, knocking her out of the way of a weaponized twin jet of feline urine.

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

 _I may or may not have spent this whole story setting up a scene in which the words 'piss cannon' could be used._

This seems to be how these stories are developing, where I work on an entire novel just to execute a single extremely ridiculous joke... and by the time I get there, it's gotten way too serious. XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	18. Reversal

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Reversal::**

Surrounded by four fully grown men, out in the open, and burdened with a kicking and screaming child were not exactly Mysterion's favorite odds. In fact, he divested himself of Dougie as quickly as possible, thinking fast and hurling the kid away from himself and directly at one of the minions he'd summoned- a move that might have bought him a few seconds to make a possible escape... but also caught him the few seconds it took for the net to close almost entirely around him. This _wasn't_ the way he operated, but he had contingencies. Reaching to his belt, his next course of action was a string of firecrackers that would hopefully get his assailants to back off just long enough for him to dive through the smoke and noise and get back into the shadows- his preferred environment. He had the cheap fireworks in one hand, a lighter in the other, but he didn't get the chance to put them together.

No, no, he automatically ducked in response to something much louder than his intended distraction. The kind of noise that jolted the skeleton inside his flesh and made his ears ring for proximity and lack of protection... and a noise he was just a _little_ to familiar with, considering his age.

Thankfully, it was a noise his assailants were familiar with, too- _they_ all responded in kind, scattering like birds while crying out, seeking cover. They abandoned their task without hesitation, and disappeared into the night without a backwards glance.

The sound had been a gunshot. A pistol, in particular.

Mysterion twisted around after a brief self check to ensure it wasn't _him_ who had been shot- usually that sound meant he was about to wake up in bed at home. Still, a little patting along his person revealed neither holes nor blood, and he spun around to investigate further. The shot had come from behind him, from where he'd sprinted into this area chasing General Disarray down. Had someone followed him? _Who the fuck would follow him who owned a gun?_

He blinked upon seeing the person who had arrived. An adult, a _woman,_ obscured by the dark of night but identifiable in shape despite wearing a long coat. The pistol he'd heard was in her hand, aimed up at the sky; _fired as a warning shot?_ That was his only guess for now. He didn't know the woman at first look, and that didn't improve as she stepped into the light that glowed above the open storage unit that acted as Chaos's hideout. The yellow incandescent bulb revealed a woman with brown bangs resting over her brow from under a black knit hat, wearing a tight expression and scanning the area with a green glare. The thin line of her mouth was accented with dark mauve lipstick, which stood in contrast against pale skin and increased the intense _business woman_ aura she carried.

In a word, she looked _serious..._ and utterly unfamiliar.

Satisfied with the effect of the shot she'd fired, she brought her gun down to a proper ready position at her side; aimed at the ground but not tucked away. She didn't even seem to register Mysterion at first, gleaming over him as she raked the now-empty square of pavement with her eyes, uninterested in him until such time as she ascertained there was no one else. It was only _then_ that she locked onto him, and spoke.

"I was expecting your partner to be here."

He blinked. Adult, angry, armed- _and looking for Buttlord._ "Who the fuck are you?" He demanded, dropping into his customary growl without thinking.

"Doctor Kartwright, CDC." The woman responded.

 _That_ produced a shock. The doctor Alyssa e-mailed? Who was supposed to be their government ally? Last he knew, the woman was in _Atlanta,_ what the fuck was she doing in South Park? And, a better question, how had she found him?

"Cell tracking." The doctor answered him, anticipating one of his questions. "If your phone is on, the government can get GPS on it... and I couldn't get a signal on your friend, so I followed _you,_ figuring you'd be with them- _fat fucking lot of good that did me._ What the _fuck_ was even going on here? Is this town _always_ this crazy?"

"Sister, you don't know the fucking _half of it."_ Mysterion had a wry smirk for a split second before getting back down to business. If Kartwright was here... "You dug something up on Reynolds?"

" _No,_ I came all this way to tell you kids I found _fuck all- Godzilla's cavernous cochlea,_ of _course_ I dug some shit up on Reynolds, and if you're out here dressed... _like that,_ then I've gotta assume we're on a tight schedule, so let's move and talk, eh?"

 _Dressed like that._ Another thing to remember; this doctor knew who he _actually_ was under the hood- then again, if his phone had been hacked to track his GPS, he supposed there was very little the woman didn't know about his every-day identity... and pornography habits, but that was beside the point.

"I don't know where Reynolds is- My partner was on a stakeout here, but fell out of contact. I came to find out what happened, and-" He blinked. _General Disarray!_ Now that the minions had scattered, he could interrogate the kid properly! He whipped around, searching for the red-headed dweeb... but he was nowhere to be seen. _Of course;_ he'd pulled the same _duck and cover maneuver_ as his helpers, and no doubt had either hidden himself or duced out entirely. " _Fuck!"_

"... I take it I spooked your informant?" The doctor quested dryly, stepping up and peering into the storage unit that still laid open like maw of a lazy predator awaiting prey. The lights inside the unit itself were off, leaving the space dark in contrast with the overhead lamp, and rendering the interior utterly unintelligible. "... smart kid?" She asked.

"Sometimes." Mysterion responded gruffly.

"Let's see how smart." Kartwright stepped up to the open door, pursing her lips for a moment before dropping an octave into a booming and commanding voice. " _Get out here or I'll start taking pot shots!"_

There was a yelp, and the clatter of something getting knocked over. A few seconds later, Dougie emerged, the majority of his tin foil uniform ruined and his scuffed glasses somehow back in his possession and just barely on his nose. "Please don't shoot!" He squealed, putting his hands up as he arrived in the light. "I'm here, I'm here! I'll tell you anything you wanna know, just don't shoot me!"

" _Regular Einstein."_ Kartwright smirked, flipping the safety catch on her weapon and finally holstering it on her thigh. When her long coat fell back over it, it was impossible to tell she was packing. "Alright, _now_ we can go."

" _Go?"_ The General didn't appear too pleased with that idea, recoiling somewhat- as if he thought he could still make a run for it. "I-I can tell you where the boss is hiding out, but I'm not _going-_ no way. This was all a diversion for _him!"_ He pointed a finger at Mysterion. _"_ Now that the government is getting involved? _No way,_ I am _out."_

" _Me?"_ Mysterion had figured as much, but hearing it confirmed was worth a shot of surprise... not as much as finding out Karen was involved, but still. "Talk fast, Disarray."

"Don't you get it? My whole job was to _distract_ you guys! Kidnapping Coon was a diversion, and I knew you'd all either _blame him_ for what's happening or _waste time trying to find him._ We released him close to town, expecting that it would look suspicious when he got back so fast. The more he insisted on his innocence, the more you'd all doubt him, and you'd waste _even more time_ trying to prove him guilty. Then Dee would turn up missing, Butters wouldn't know _anything,_ and everyone would assume it was Coon pulling all the strings behind _everything_ and using the Chaos brand as a scapegoat. _My job was to waste your time while the boss searched!_ I even said some incriminating stuff to Coon that would make him suspect Butters because we all know he can play dumb as heck when he's committed! The more you blamed Coon, the more Coon would blame the Professor, the more Butters would claim innocence, the more you'd all fight each other and _not get in Miss. Reynolds's way._ _ **It would have been pure chaos!"**_

 _Well, at least he's on brand._

"And where did _Karen_ get involved?" Mysterion demanded.

"Do we have time for this?" Kartwright questioned. "If your friends were here earlier, and they're gone now, there's a chance they're already confronting Reynolds. That woman could be _dangerous-_ and what she's looking for might be even worse."

"She has to be with them." Dougie concluded himself. "She only signed on because I promised no one would be hurt... she was reporting everyone's movements to me so I could know exactly when to strike, but I didn't tell her _why_ she was giving me that information. When I heard that Dee had escaped, but LSD didn't report in to me... I knew she either got caught or swapped sides. That's why I was waiting for you here, Mysterion. I needed to stall you as long as possible to hold up my side of the deal."

"... _LSD?"_ Kenny blinked. "... please tell me she didn't pick that."

" _Boys."_ Kartwright snapped. "We need to get moving, so someone needs to tell me _where the hell I'm going."_

"There's a cabin, down the highway." Dougie offered in sharp response. "I'll text you the directions..."

* * *

Dee biffed hard when Cartman shoved her out of the way, the pair of them skidding through ice and snow as the cat golem unleashed it's rather _disgusting_ attack. The sharp reek of ammonia overwhelmed the area, and she could feel the _steam_ rising off of the jet of urine in the cold autumn air as they barely escaped the blast.

Unlike her, Cartman hadn't gone down when she had. He'd tripped over her, but remained upright, skidding around and grabbing her by her hoodie to try and yank her along. "C'mon, Assmaster, we gotta get outta here!" He demanded, his pulling getting her up onto her knees and forcing her to follow him for a few steps as she made it back to her feet. She was blind again, curly hair in her face and unaware of where he was going. If she had to guess, back to the car, to try and escape again- and now that the monster was smaller? She wasn't so thoroughly against it. They could outrun that thing, warn the police- or, if they didn't listen, steal some fire hoses and handle this shit themselves.

 _Or something. Improvise. **Fuck I wish Kenny was here.**_

Behind them, the cats spat and hissed. The creature was moving, _thump, thump, thumping_ after them as they made a clumsy scramble to get away.

"You are _so lucky_ I'm here for you, Douchebag!" Cartman proclaimed, finally releasing her hood. "If that had hit you, you woulda been _cheesed outta your mind!"_

 _Screw cheesed, I woulda drowned. Or maybe just_ _ **dissolved,**_ _that shit is so fucking acrid._ Frantic fingers swept her hair out of her face, addressing where they were. Cartman had picked a path that passed along side what was left of the burning cabin, several pieces of debris having been launched into the surrounding woods and beginning to catch further. They ducked low under the growing smoke, skirting around flaming pieces of the destroyed building, without comment on the possible forest fire that was about to start roaring. There was no doubt now; they needed to get out of here, quick before everything was cinders.

Despite all the running she'd done tonight, Dee still found the energy to dig in and sprint across the icy front walk, lunging right over the spot where she'd very nearly been shredded by Miss Reynolds's cats not very long ago.

Behind them, the cries of the monster changed. Less angry, more fearful. She heard the plaintive meows of cats mixed in with the pitched feline screams that came with terrified domestic cats who rarely had to tangle with anything more dangerous than a dust bunny. It was the kind of meow that grabbed an owner by the heart as a cat all but cried _save me_ in its own way, elevated to a discordant choir that seized the spine and obligated any empathetic human to at least _look_ and see what was causing it.

Cartman kept running when she paused to look back.

The golem had paused at the path she and Cartman had slipped through to go around the cabin. Amelia was within the mass, still glaring, her eyes somehow cutting through the smoke and making Dee feel as if she could kill at range, but the cats that made up her monster were rearing back from the flames, shying away as yellow tongues began to leap up in the woods and blaze from both sides of the narrow lane. Just as before, when the house exploded, the creature lost mass as more cats abandoned their mistress. Amelia didn't even seem to notice, however, until her chair suddenly jolted downwards and gravity drug her from it. It was then, _only_ then, that she broke contact with Dee and realized the peril she herself was in.

For a split second, Dee saw her terror on her face, and then she disappeared in the choking black smoke.

 _Butt-chugging bitch, are you fucking kidding me?!_

"Douchebag, the _fuck are you doing?_ Let's GO!"

The Coon, shouting for her, no doubt having just now noticed that she wasn't with him anymore. She looked back, seeing him at the edge of the woods- the glow from the fire was enough to see where their car was parked, where Karen was still sitting in the back seat and looking on with _utter terror._ If they didn't get going, there was a chance the fire would spread and possibly torch the car. He was right; they needed to escape quickly, or there wouldn't be any easy escape at all.

 _I'm not gonna leave an old lady to die. She doesn't deserve it, and I still need answers._

" _Oh no,_ I am _not_ going in there with you. I came here for Mister Kitty, I got Mister Kitty, and now I am getting the _fuck_ outta here. You wanna go kill yourself for some crazy pussy lady? _You do that._ I'm outta here!"

 _Then get going._

She didn't even nod at him. She turned back towards the fire, and took off.

Hopefully Karen would call the fire department. She was a good kid like that.

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

Well hello my friends. It's been... a couple months.

 _Oops._

I'm not gonna apologize. Life happened, as it does, and I've already stressed a thousand and one times that I do my best not to take this project too seriously because it's the one I used to chill out and have fun with. Point is, we are back now, and I hope you are enjoying that fact as much as I am.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	19. Acceptable Misunderstandings

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Acceptable Misunderstandings::**

"So you're the one who shot Dee after the whole _zombie_ thing."

Honestly, Doctor Kartwright spent more time thinking about her time in South Park than she cared to admit. Her last visit had been a short one, arriving under a cloud to set up an experiment that was meant to test her research into an aerosolized vaccine that would force public school populations to be vaccinated simply by _breathing the air in said school._ Her research hadn't been ready yet, but her choices had been to attach herself to the project or turn in her resignation. The role they'd given her had been somewhat symbolic of that- she'd been put into a position where, at any time, she could call the whole thing off... but, if she did, she'd be torpedoing her career. Faced with that, she'd been determined to make the best of it... until some kid showed up the day things were supposed to be getting underway and conveyed to her that shit was going to seriously hit the fan if plans didn't change.

She might have told said kid to fuck the fuck off, if not for the way that information was conveyed- with a cellphone. Correction, with _her_ cellphone, an exact duplicate of her own device, down to the bio-metric lock that needed to scan her thumb and take a picture of her face before allowing access. That phone had contained video journals that she had apparently made throughout a day that hadn't happened yet, from her point in time... where the experiment had gone ahead, and pulled the trigger on a zombie apocalypse scenario. She'd only been able to watch one video at the time, the one she'd specifically made to convince... _herself_ that she needed to trust this kid, give the finger to her bosses, and tare her own life apart for the sake of humanity. And then? After she'd done that, the kid had taken her aside, and shown her pictures of the afflicted from the timeline that had just been aborted, how they drooled black spittle... and then smiled, to show that they were infected, and needed to be put down.

The one she'd shot had been a duplicate, a time-twin, from the doomed timeline; the messenger whose memories had apparently passed in hazy fragments to the version of Dee who lived in the here and now. The Dee who held up her end of the bargain by spreading pro-vaccination messages all over social media, her powers causing said messages to hit home and raise the vaccination rate. Despite the failure of the experiment, Kartwright had _somehow_ managed to keep her job due to the sudden rise in vaccination interest... and become the contact of a person the US Government had been trying to pin to a wall for years.

Amazing, all the things that could happen in less than twenty-four hours in this podunk little town.

Haley still had that duplicated cell phone. There'd been a lot more than just the video that convinced her to believe and listen to Dee- and the more she saw of that doomed timeline, the more she was certain she'd done the right thing... and the more curious she'd gotten about South Park, Colorado. With her bosses putting pressure on her to go on vacation, to just _take a couple months of paid leave and go wherever she wanted,_ she found herself doing more research on this crummy little berg than any of the sunnier locations she could have gone to winter in. But the decision hadn't been made until just a few hours ago- when _other_ research had led to discovery, and said discovery only raised more questions.

Thankfully the CDC got some pull when one needed to get to the other side of the country in a hurry. So did batting her eyes pretty to the guy who managed all their transportation logistics, claiming that she needed to get out here as fast as possible due to a family emergency. _'And hey, they want me to take vacation? I'll just hole up with the folks for the holidays. Win-win.'_

As if she had any family. _Living_ family, anyhow.

"Yeah, I am. And you're her partner who helped her slap around the suits for a couple years." Kartwright confirmed to the boy sitting in her passenger seat. The car was a rental, and had that unique smell that came of six or seven different air fresheners each leaving their essence behind over time. "And taught the _Bitch-in-Chief_ a lesson over Halloween." She glanced over. She knew from the phone hack that the kid in the costume was named Kenny McCormick, but the costume was straight out of an old Batman comic... and he carried the persona pretty well, too. From research she'd done, she knew he was a local vigilante by the name of Mysterion... because this town needed _more_ weird going for it. More than his air of mystery, though, she was sensing a certain... _stiffness._ "You think we're going to find trouble?"

"You came all this way because you dug something up on Reynolds." Mysterion grumbled. " _You tell me."_

 _Fair enough._ "I called in a favor to do a wide search on her name with the agency that looks after that stuff- keeping track of powered persons in the US, ongoing experiments, status of powered operatives in our employ, so on and so forth- and before you ask, I don't know how many there are. I don't _work_ in that agency, I just get coffee with a guy who does now and then." Though, she felt at this point she owed the guy a nice dinner- hunting up Reynolds's history had nearly put his ass in the fire.

"There's an agency for that?"

"Who the fuck do you think was chasing down your friend? The _secret service?"_ She scoffed, briefly checking the directions the red-headed kid in the glasses had given her before continuing. "Reynolds's file is an old one; she was picked up by an agent after a drunk and disorderly arrest- the Agency had suspected her of having the ability to communicate with and control cats. Low-level ability, but they still wanted to study her. She wasn't taken far. Back then, there was a lab out here; pretty small as far as government installations go, and hidden. She was taken there- for what _exactly_ , I don't know. The majority of the file was redacted. Looking up the facility, it was apparently abandoned in the 90's, but there's no records of tare-down."

" _Wait- what?"_

The kid's voice broke, turning lighter with shock as he jerked in his seat to stare at her. For a split second, he wasn't some caped vigilante but a kid in a costume. As as quickly, however, he put the affectation back on and got ahold of himself.

"So, the government ran a lab out here, Reynolds was taken there, where they did _who knows what to her..._ and she's been out of her mind and on the run ever since." He recapped. "And the government just... _shut it down and left it there?_ That sounds pretty fishy."

"Checks with the fucking chart to me- the government is a shit-sucking monument to bad decisions and bureaucracy. Someone probably forgot to renew a contract and the place lost funding. After that, it probably ended up on the bottom of someone's _when I get around to it_ pile." Kartwright sneered, spying the turn she needed to take... and a strange, orange haze in the direction they were going. At first she suspected some teenagers having a bonfire in the woods, but it looked just a little too big for anything _controlled... "Oh fuck me running-"_

The way she was pulling onto wasn't paved- heck, it was barely plowed. There was a property gate, _open,_ and another set of headlights oncoming. A car was coming out, along the same narrow drive she'd just turned onto. Turning slightly, she put her tires into the drifted up snow to avoid a possible collision with a compact car that was coming back up the way entirely too fast.

 _There was a kid behind the wheel._

"Son of a- _Coon!"_

Kartwright registered the sound of her passenger door opening, glancing over just in time to see the trailing edge of a cape. There was a thud on the roof of her vehicle, and when she twisted around to look at the oncoming car she saw the shape of her passenger _leaping directly at the windshield of the oncoming car._

* * *

After hours of being too damn cold, sweat ran into Dee's eyes as she ducked beneath smoke and flame to get back to where she saw Amelia fall. There was no sign of her behemoth cat monster, now- the felines that made it up had scattered before the flames, abandoning their mistress in mortal fear of the growing fire as it spread. Without their bulk, Dee had no signpost once she'd committed herself to the smoky corridor between the cabin and the crackling branches of the woods, crouching down low and crawling forward while squinting against the smoke that stung her eyes.

Normally, she'd be able to pause this moment in time, bypass the flames without being touched, and drag Amelia out without suffering so much as inhalation. Now it was just her, shying away from the closing blaze and inching forward in cold slush that was soaking her clothes as she went. She grabbed at her hoodie, yanking up the collar to put over her nose, protecting herself somewhat from letting oppressive smoke into her lungs as her hands groped forward for the body of one old woman whom she refused to condemn to death.

Her hands found the collapsed figure, and she grabbed on, getting her boots beneath her and reversing course. Eyes closed tightly, she splashed through puddles that formed from melted snow, and she kept shuffling backwards until the world didn't feel so damn hot anymore- and then she let go and fell on her butt, panting as her nose came free from beneath her sweater.

When she looked up, she saw Amelia. The old woman appeared unconscious, her glasses nowhere to be seen and smudges of ash on her face. It looked like part of her skirt had caught, but that was now only a smoldering edge after being drug through the snow melt. Finally, and perhaps most surprisingly, there was still a cat with her. Just one, a lonely feline who had parked itself on the woman's chest. It took a moment, but Dee recognized it as the cat who had been seated on her lap when she'd been controlling the giant monster- it had long, fluffy fur, was rather _large,_ with a sort of butterscotch coloration and a white throat patch. It stared at Dee where its mistress could not, with massive brown eyes as tufted ears pinned forward in rapt attention.

A lone kitty left Dee to relax. The monster was gone, and Amelia was still alive- alive and subdued for later questioning. Now she just had to hope that _someone_ had called the fire department, because there was _no way_ she was carrying an elderly lady all the way back to-

The cat suddenly stood up. Its heckles rose, and it hissed. Dee blinked, feeling too sluggish and exhausted to even register why the cat would suddenly get angry. It had been so placid a moment ago. She had not been at all prepared when it made the leap onto _her_ chest, all claws engaged and gripping into her hoodie as the surprising weight of the animal knocked her back onto the ice pack of the front drive. Her legs kicked up, hands fumbling to remove the animal, trying to roll over and get it off of her as claws dug past her sweater and into her skin, possibly making a _pathetic_ noise as she did so.

She managed to get a hand under the big cat's belly, pushing up and to the side to try and _throw_ the animal away from herself. She managed to get its back claws out of her sweater and stomach, and the cat began batting at her with the front paws, a burning rake of pain dragging over one of her cheeks before she felt blood dripping down. Just as she thought she had a handle on the squirmy creature, it wriggled around and got loose of her grasp, landing back on her chest with its butt in her face.

A second later, she was hit with a blast of urine.

* * *

"Sweetie? Honey, are you with us?"

Dee felt _sick._ Not just _kinda-under-the-weather_ sick. No, _death-warmed-over_ was a better description for it. Her body ached, her throat scratched, and her stomach flopped over as she blinked against the sterile white light of- _was she at the hospital?_

 _Testicular torsion loving Christ, what the fuck happened?_

It took a moment, screwing her eyes shut and trying to remember. She remembered the stakeout with Cartman, LSD coming to show them the way, confronting Amelia, the cat monster, the explosion, the fire- and then? … shit got _weirder._ Not _South Park_ weird, more like _fever dream inspired by hairband cover-art and sexy He-man parodies weird._ Which she supposed _could_ fall under the kind of shit that happened in her town, but it really wasn't the usual flavor.

It had also smelled rather distinctly of cat piss. Her nasal cavity hurt.

"Heeey, sport, you okay there?"

Voices. She knew those voices. Her parents- mom and dad. She opened her eyes again, despite the light being a painful thing she didn't particularly want to deal with. There they were, at her bedside, peering at her with worried expressions mixed with hopeful smiles. Making eye-contact made those smiles grow, and her mother stood up from the chair she'd been occupying to grab her daughter's hand and squeeze tightly.

"Oh sweetie, we were so worried! If we had known-"

"Now Kelly, we don't know if that's what happened." Her father broken in before her mother could go off on her own version of what happened and why, reaching up and taking his wife by the shoulder to ease her back down.

"Oh, I know, but- _Chris-"_

 _ **Shit-filled Twinkies packaged as chocolate,** it's lecture time? Can it wait until I **don't** feel like three-week-old ground meat? _

" _Honey."_ Her father soothed her mother with his usual even tone, before he shifted himself from the chair he'd been occupying and onto the edge of the hospital bed. Dee recognized that posture- it was the _dad is going to try to understand why the fuck his kid did something really stupid_ posture. She hadn't seen that one in a while. Then again, when was the last time she'd been hospitalized? … it had been a hot second.

 _Alright, lemme have it._

"Now buddy, I know you must have been really upset after what happened at the house. None of us were expecting your grandmother to just... _show up_ like that, and I certainly wasn't expecting her to be such a _bitch-"_

"Chris!" Mom protested. "I mean, she was... abrasive, but..."

"She was a bitch." Dad reiterated, flatly. "Don't dodge it, honey, she's downright proud of it. _Point is,"_ His attention returned to his daughter. "I can understand that you wanted to get out of the house last night. I know you messaged your mother, letting her know, and maybe we shouldn't have let you go... Or maybe we should have let you start staying over with other kids earlier, so you didn't feel like you had to go so crazy. Point is, sweetie, we love you, and we didn't realize we'd pushed you so far that you'd... _start using something so hardcore."_

Dee blinked. She'd missed something. _Using?_ Like _drugs_ using? What the _hell_ were they talking about?

"Now, I understand that you're really close with Kenny, and he's had trouble with drugs in the past, and that when you're stressed out your friends might try to help you relax with whatever worked for them..."

 _Tits and TNT, they **really** think I went and got cheesed out of my brain with Kenny- wait! I got cheesed last night? Did I **hallucinate** the cat monster? No, no, fuck no, that can't be right, it's gotta be what happened after the fire- Amelia had a cat with her! I remember! It must have sprayed me- that's why I don't remember anything that makes sense after that!_

The horror must have been showing on her face, because her mother broke in.

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay!" Her mom assured, once again springing up from her chair and leaning over her daughter to grasp her by the shoulders, smiling down benevolently. "I'm sure Kenny was just trying to help, we... we just didn't realize that you were having so much trouble that you'd go that far. Really, we're just glad you're okay- and that no one was in that cabin."

… _you know what, I'm not even gonna correct you guys. It sounds better than the truth right now._

" _But."_ Dad broke in, easing his wife back again so he could get a clear line of sight with his daughter. "We want you to promise us that if things get that bad again, you'll _talk_ to us... and if you _really_ need to do... _something_ to take the edge off, that you'll do it in a safe environment. Preferably at home... and... _maybe..."_ He glanced over to Mom, appearing pensive about the next point he was expected to make. "Maybe reconsider your choice of a boyfriend?"

 _ **Roman anal battle orgies,** you guys are as bad as Vernice._

The flat look on her face made her mother blanch, no doubt having been the one to put that idea forward. "I-I mean, Kenny seems to be a nice boy and all, but-"

"He didn't _do_ anything." Dee reported flatly, finally speaking. She was fairly confident that they were alone in the room, otherwise her parents wouldn't have been giving her the _drugs_ talk. "I took off from his place and... went to go hang out with Cartman."

 _Not a lie, technically._

" _Eric?"_ Dad's surprise was palpable, but also relief. " _Well,_ that's... I mean, uh..."

"Didn't he _go missing_ yesterday?" Mom asked. "Liane was calling everyone- _oh._ You... you were both stressed out, huh?"

 _Let's go with that. I'll explain better when we go home._

"That _said,_ we should talk about the _boyfriend."_ Dad added.

"Oh, Chris, not right now." Mom shook her head, it being her turn to ease him back. "Can't you see she's exhausted? The doctors say you should be fine to leave in a little while, sweetie, they just want to make sure you can keep food down before they send you home."

Dee nodded faintly, lips pressed together before she looked up at her parents. "Uh... there was an old woman, last night. With a cat. Do you guys know what happened to her?"

Dad's eyebrows raised as he and Mom got up from their seats, nodding slightly. "She's in the room just across the hall- the police are guarding her. I figured she was... y'know, a dealer. You're not trying to score right out the gate, are you kiddo?"

She shook her head. "No, I just... memory is fuzzy. Trying to put it together."

 _I can't question her if she's under guard..._

Her parents exchanged looks. She could _feel_ the fact that they were still worried about her, but no doubt they had things to do today that wasn't hovering at her bedside. Or maybe _they_ could sense that she wasn't exactly eager for company at the moment. Either way, her mother took her father by the arm and announced. "We're going to go down to the cafeteria and get some lunch, sweetie... we'll be back in about an hour, okay?"

She nodded weakly, offering a smile and wave as they headed for the door.

When it shut, she thought she was alone.

"Well _that_ was a fucking fiasco."

She was wrong.

The voice came from her right, behind a curtain that separated her from the next bed over. While the bed itself was indeed empty, there was a person standing behind the drawn back curtain, having no doubt maintained their position there for however long her parents had been there watching over her... the actions of a truly _sneaky_ individual.

Then again, he'd been good at that for as long as she'd known him.

"Kenny!" She yelped, but the force of her own voice made her groan a second later as a headache she didn't realize she had throbbed between her eyes. Sure enough, her favorite beanpole of a boy stepped out, wearing a lopsided smirk and his trademark orange parka... over the clothes she'd bought for him, no less, the zipper open to show the black shirt with the faded white rose on the chest. He had his hands in his pockets, his posture casually slouched as he approached her bed and hopped up to plonk his butt down next to her. "Ugh... hey... did you get my message?"

"Everyone did, eventually, but I'm the only one who woke up early enough to _do_ anything." He confirmed with a nod, but his expression wasn't his usual devil-may-care smile that he took most days with. No, his lips were pressed together. Thin, pensive.

He knew about Karen.

"... did she call you when the cabin exploded?"

" _She should have._ I'm supposed to protect her. I can't believe you brought her with you, when she could have-"

"Without her, we wouldn't have found the place. Cartman was driving." She defended. "And he didn't put it together. I wasn't gonna out her in front of him."

Kenny's face twisted. He didn't like it.

"I made her stay in the car." She continued. "Cartman wanted to use her as a hostage. I wouldn't let him. She showed us the way, and then stayed back where it was safe. I wouldn't put her in danger, you _know_ that."

"... do you know why she did it?"

His question reflected a certain level of _hurt. Betrayal_ , even. The fact that his sister had gone and done this, behind his back, had to sting after all he'd done to protect her over the years.

"No." She answered, shaking her head a little. "... have you asked her?"

"... no." He admitted. "I... I haven't talked to her since getting her home. Ms. Stotch picked me up this morning to see Butters, and..." He appeared at a loss, trailing off.

" _Butters. Shit- Butters!_ Did she already take him home?"

"Yeah." He nodded a little. "We stopped in earlier, but you were still asleep. You were _cheesed out of your mind_ last night, dude." _Now_ his gap-toothed grin reappeared, snickering at her. "I haven't seen anyone that fucked up since Cartman's scheme to punch up the crime rate and get Mitch Conner elected mayor went down. You're a _lightweight."_

" _Shuttup."_ She glared at him, lifting a sore arm to weakly punch him in the shoulder, despite being restricted by an IV drip. "Life is crazy enough without drugs... I like to be in control... but... that cabin was outta town. How'd you get there?"

"Your pen-pal showed up."

 _Pen-pal?_ Dee took a moment to give him a strange look, and then she put it together with a start. "Wait, _the doc?"_

"Yep. Showed up with a gun and scared Dougie in to spilling the beans- told us the whole scheme and where to find the cabin. She drove me out there, and we caught Cartman trying to abandon you. I stopped him form leaving, insisted he leave the stolen car and let the doc drive us back before going up to the cabin myself- just in time to see you get a _feline golden shower."_ He snickered. _"_ I didn't know you were into water sports."

She gave him a dead look before darting a hand out, reaching into his coat to go for his ribs, intent on finding a ticklish spot and satisfied when he drew his elbows in to block her hand, squirming away and off of the edge of her bed, laughing through his stupid grin. She tried to lean forward to go after him, but her stomach flopped and she had to withdraw. _"Ugh,_ alright, alright, jokes aside... what brought her all this way?"

"Her bosses wanted her to take a vacation. She decided South Park was the place to be." He shrugged. "Apparently there's an old abandoned science lab out there- I figure that's what Reynolds was trying to find. It's where she was taken after she was arrested back in the day. Doc thinks the place might be dangerous, but I guess she's also intrigued by the mystery?" Again, Kenny shrugged. "Nice to have someone with a gun on our side, if you ask me. She's across the hall, keeping an eye on Amelia- none of the doctors wanna argue with a CDC bitch."

"Well, she was gonna come out this way to drop off my family's file, anyhow... if she wants to hang about, good for her."

"Gonna invite her to Thanksgiving?" Kenny smirked.

" _Fuck no."_

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

 _HOO BOY,_ long chapter of a fic that was supposed to be short, ending up much longer than intended. OH WELL.

One more chapter... maybe two? Got some loose threads to tie up, and possibly some fluff to finish things out. We deserve it at this point, methinks XD

Also, for everyone who is asking, _yes I have seen the Halloween episode._ If you keep up with my Tumblr, I actually live-blogged it when I watched it.I have Hulu now, so I am able to keep up... though I do so at my leisure.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	20. We FINALLY Catch Up With Butters

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – In Which We FINALLY Catch up With Butters::**

The old woman was in a bad way. Not as bad as she was _going_ to be, Kartwright imagined, but bad enough after all the smoke inhalation and a bad fall. She'd broken her hip, quite literally, and appeared to be suffering from decreased kidney function as a chronic condition. With the kind of night she'd had, it was a wonder poor Amelia Reynolds's heart hadn't given up on her.

Honestly, maybe she would have been better off if it had. Amelia was being held on criminal drug charges- possession of cats with intent for _cheesing,_ whatever the hell that was. Whenever she did wake up, she'd be questioned by the authorities, and prevented from going anywhere... which meant it was only a matter of time before the Agency came and picked her up. Kartwright had delayed the inevitable, giving the hospital staff a fake name for the woman and, by extension, the police. It would put off positive identification, but only for a time. Amelia rented that cabin, and soon enough the person who rented it to her would be questioned and give either her name or whatever alias she used this time, the record would be corrected, and someone's net would catch it as part of a larger tracking pattern.

Really, with all the cats involved, they probably had someone on the ground, poking around the ruined cabin.

The doctor sighed, leaning back in the chair she'd taken next to Miss. Reynolds. There was a carrier in the corner of the hospital room; the woman's cat had been placed in it. The animal had been captured when the authorities arrived; both firemen and EMTs, and impounded as evidence as part of the cheesing allegation. Kartwright supposed the animal was meant to remain in its cage, but the creature began yowling some hours ago and she just hadn't the heart to keep it away from its owner, releasing the cat and letting it bound up onto the bed to settle on Amelia's stomach and begin purring loudly.

The butterscotch fluff-ball reminded Kartwright of her first cat; big, fluffy, similar colors. _Ah, memories._ It was the same reason she couldn't stand to listen to it mewl so pathetically- she just didn't have the heart to keep it boxed up.

"... water?"

A request from the bed- Amelia was coming around, and requesting a drink. Kartwright didn't hesitate, reaching for a cup with a straw she'd requested some time ago. Sitting forward on the chair she occupied, she helped settle the straw on the old woman's lips and slipped a hand under her head, helping her lean up and take a drink. She went until the cup was empty, the straw making its slurping noises along the bottom once there was no more for her to take.

"You had quite a night." Kartwright noted softly, withdrawing the cup and putting it back on the nightstand. She remained forward, her elbows settling on spread knees and her hands coming together in the space between to clasp.

"... where am I?" The old woman asked, her voice distant, soft, confused. "I wasn't here, before... I wasn't... the kitties... where are the kitties...?"

As she murmured, one of her hands clumsily flopped up, finding the singular feline who had come to rest on her belly. That seemed to comfort her, and she stroked the animal idly.

"You're at Hell's Pass Hospital, outside of South Park. The cabin you were renting last night suffered a gas leak, the fire destroyed everything."

"South Park... I used to live in South Park... _long_ time ago."

"I know." Kartwright nodded. "I know a lot about you, Amelia."

The old woman blinked, her head rolling to the side, addressing Haley with wide gray eyes that didn't know what to make of her. "... not a suit." The woman noted, her soft tones somewhat gruff in the observation. "Who are you?"

"A doctor- who would very much like to know why you were looking for the old lab."

" _You know about it?"_

"Just that it exists. I don't know what they did to you there, Amelia, but I'd like to know more."

"They tried to take it." Miss. Reynolds muttered, shaking her head, her jaw lax and eyes wide. Glassy, as if she might burst into tears. _"They tried to take it away-_ my connection to the kitties. They- I wanted to make sure they couldn't do it anymore, so I had to find it, find the lab, break the machine, _find the lab, break the machine-"_

Kartwright blinked. What was she talking about? A _machine?_ And her connection to the cats? What the _hell_ kinda shit was that lab into? It sounded like _depowering,_ but no one had ever gotten that tech to work.

Least, not that she knew about it. She wasn't in the Agency. Maybe they'd managed it, but were keeping it hushed.

" _Shhhh..."_ Kartwright soothed, saving her brainstorming for later. "Please, Amelia... I want you to tell me everything you remember. Just take it one step at a time..."

"They're gonna take me away." Amelia muttered. " _They're gonna take me away, aren't they?_ No more running... I got too close."

"... I'm going to keep you hidden, while I can. You might get to slip away, if you're lucky."

She shook her head, wispy hair flitting this way and that. "No, no, 's been too long on the road. They'll get me this time. I knew that- I'd make it, or I'd be gone. It's okay, I made my peace with it..." Even as she said it, that shine of her eyes grew more pronounced, tears escaping as she blinked and following the lines in her wrinkled face to her pillow. "... my kitty needs a home, miss."

Kartwright blinked, looking to the cat and it's big brown eyes. It appeared perfectly placid, now, unlike the night before- it had been puffed up and angry, resisting capture as hard as possible. "The authorities will probably put it down, Amelia..."

" _NO!"_

It was shocking, the frail woman's voice suddenly booming, refusing the death of her cat, even though it appeared to pain her to do so. Her skin turned deathly pale, and her breath trembled after the fact.

"... _no."_ She repeated. "Not him. Please. Sneak him out, find him a home, and I'll tell. I'll tell everything."

Haley blinked, unsure. Then again, cats were _wily_ creatures... she could probably see to it that this one got out of here. He was pretty, fluffy, clearly domesticated- surely some caring family would take him in.

"Okay, Amelia. I'll find a home for your cat. I promise."

* * *

It was with a plaintive look that Dee got her parents to give Kenny a ride back to town, as well as to drop the pair of them off at the Stotch house. It was, after all, a Sunday afternoon- those precious few hours before they had to go back to school on Monday. That, and Dee _really_ didn't feel up to dealing with her grandmother just yet, who was apparently going to remain in residence until Thanksgiving. Considering that date was still more than a week out, she'd take all the time she could get to _not_ be at home.

That and she really wanted to see Butters. She'd gone through a lot yesterday, and it was all because she felt she owed him. She wanted to see him, make sure he was okay.

Thankfully, there was no obligation to go home and change. Her parents had brought her some clothes to replace the ones that had gotten annihilated the night before. Between broken glass, fire damage, blood, and... _otherwise,_ there was no going back to her favorite big blue sweater until she could order a new one online or find one in a local shop that she liked. For now, she was stuck with her binder, a black T, and an oversized red-plaid button-down flannel to disguise her feminine shape; mixed with yet another baggy set of cargo pants, of course.

Mr. Stotch didn't waylay them for long at the door, welcoming them inside and informing them that Butters was upstairs in his room, taking it easy. The man himself still had a leg-brace; a reminder that both Stotch men were on light duty for a while as they continued to heal from what happened over Halloween. Odd that when Dee looked at Mr. Stotch, she felt no remorse. She somehow doubted she _could_ feel any guilt towards a man who regularly locked his son in his room for reasons that were no fault of his own. Her customary cold glare was maintained as Kenny thanked him for letting them in, the pair heading upstairs and escaping before the man of the house caught any of the _salt emanating_ from Dee's aura.

"You gotta calm that shit down, man. Someday he might catch on." Kenny smirked as they approached the top of the stairs.

 _Oh darn, you mean punching him in the nuts a few years ago didn't get my point across? **I don't think he's ever gonna get it.**_

Kenny knocked on the door when they arrived, instigating a _"Coming!"_ Response from within that made Kenny snicker with a faint mutter of _"I mean, if ya gotta."_ In covert response.

Dee smirked, elbowing the tall boy next to her before the door opened.

She didn't know if she was prepared to see him, really. The last she'd seen Butters had been in his hospital bed after he'd come out of surgery, but the memory that _stuck_ was before then. The memory of him shot, bleeding, pale as a sheet and in shock on his living room floor; a room that had been _re-carpeted_ since then. More than that was the _other_ memory, the one showed up in broken recollections of dreams and de'ja'vu. Her poor, temporally confused brain frequently underwent shots of panic, feeling as if _that_ memory had to be the real one, and what was happening at this second was the delusional chasing of echos. That Butters wasn't alive, but _dead._ That she and Kenny hadn't made it in time to put pressure on his wounds and stop him form bleeding out, and that everything she'd gone through to make the boy have a happy homecoming was denial brought on by grief, and the people around her were just _indulging_ her instead of setting her straight.

But then he was there, standing in his bedroom doorway, smiling his dorky smile at herself and Kenny.

"Fellas!" He greeted them with glee, stepping back and waving them into his room without a moment's hesitation. "My hamster- _that was really sweet of you guys,_ my mom told me all about it. You didn't have to go to all that trouble over me."

"Yes we did." Kenny shot back in an instant, passing into the room while reaching out to ruffle Butters's blond tuft, going straight to the rodent's cage and bending over to put his face even with it and examine the napping hamster inside. "He adjusting okay? We had a little _adventure_ getting him to you."

"He's sleepin' a lot- guess he's worn out." Butters reported, looking back at Dee, who had hesitated at the doorway. She'd only taken a single step in, holding off on a full entrance. "You okay, buddy? It's okay to come in, I'm not grounded. Dad wanted to 'cause I broke some stuff, but mom talked him outta it 'cause I mighta saved the family's bacon."

 _Score one for Ms. Stotch. Your parents still suck._ Her exhausted half-smirking face morphed into a proper smile, stepping up to Butters- closer than her little bubble of personal space would usually allow, and drew the boy in to hug him. She wanted to squeeze tight, but there was only so much strength she could muster... and there were healing lacerations to take into account.

 _Yeah. Feels real to me._

"Awee... I missed you too, buddy." Butters returned the hug without hesitation, patting her back before she withdrew. "So what's up? You guys want me to go out somewhere with you?"

"Nothing in particular- Dee's house sucks right now. _Relatives."_ Kenny answered, drawing himself back up to his usual slouch and spinning on his heel to face Butters as he spoke, the other blond boy shutting the door as Dee finally entered the room proper. "Plus _he's_ gotta take it easy, too. Last night got crazy, he's got like... sixteen stitches?"

 _Ten on the right upper arm, six on the left forearm. Broken glass sucks, man._ Dee nodded, unbuttoning the flannel over-shirt she was wearing to gingerly shrug it off and show where bandages had been rolled onto her person after she'd been stitched up. Thankfully she'd been unconscious for that- she didn't like needles.

"Sweet Jesus! What happened?" Butters crowed, stepping over to take a closer look.

"Jumped through a window."

" _Whoa,_ like an action hero!"

Dee blinked, and found herself blushing. _Guys, it wasn't **that** cool. It was like... 90% blind panic and survival instinct. Besides, with this curly fuckin' hair I'm gonna be combing shards out for like a **month.** I'm lucky I still have a scalp._

" _Look, he's getting' all bashful."_ Kenny snickered, stepping up behind her and giving her a nudge... one she responded to with an elbow. "A-ack! Okay, okay, take it easy before you rip out a stitch!"

 _ **Fuck you both.**_

"Dee, you gotta take it easy!" Butters scolded, as if he were her nurse. "You wanna see my stitches? They've healed up a bunch, but it's still pretty nasty-lookin'!" Without prompting, he pulled up his shirt. There was a gauze pad taped to the right side of his stomach which he peeled back, revealing a cluster of stitches below the dressing where lumpy scar tissue was in the process of forming after a bullet had passed through him. No doubt his back was the same, where the exit wound was.

For some reason, seeing the fact that he was recovering gave her a massive shot of relief... and it _was_ pretty cool. She leaned down, taking a closer look, with Kenny practically draped over her back to perch his chin on her shoulder.

"Duuuude, that's gonna turn into a sweet scar."

"I donno, I think I'm gonna look like I have an extra belly button..." Butters made a face, but put his shirt back down after replacing the gauze, signaling his friends to stand up straight again. "So whatcha fellas doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Hanging out at this guy's house." Kenny responded. "Actually... I was wondering if I could _borrow_ you- his parents are getting his family together for the first time. Ever. It's probably gonna _suck monkey taint._ I figured if we were both there to keep Dee company, it might be less lame."

Dee blinked. They hadn't discussed this, and the idea made her jerk and look up at Kenny quizzically. When she did, he _smirked_ like he was _planning_ something.

"I donno if my parents will let me skip out on our Thanksgiving..." Butters muttered, pensive. "But mom was complaining that she'd be doing all the work this year- maybe she'd feel better if we all went to someone else's party!"

Dee's head jerked back around, feeling very much as if plans were being made _around_ her. _Wait, guys, dontcha think we should be asking **my** family about this?It's there party, and the house is gonna be overstuffed-_

"Just show up with a side-dish. Dee's dad doesn't know how to turn away people with food." Kenny instructed.

 _You guys!_ She wanted to shout at them, but instead served Kenny with a quick thump to the chest and a glare.

" _What?"_ Kenny laughed in response; she hadn't hit him that hard. More a _firm tap,_ really. "C'mon, you know he won't say no. Your dad is too nice to tell someone to fuck off on Thanksgiving, and your mom will be too busy doing _disaster control_ to answer the door."

 _Just because you're right doesn't mean you should be encouraging people to gate-crash. It's gonna be crazy enough as it is._ She glared up at him, but she couldn't hold it. After a few seconds, she let out a sigh and her expression softened. She looked to Butters, found herself with a smile, and finally nodded. _Then again... I do want more people in my corner if things go to hell in a hand-basket._

"Let's go ask my parents!" Butters proclaimed. "Ho-boy, I bet they'll be excited they don't have to do all that cooking!"

 _We'll just not tell them that my house is gonna be **the Chernobyl disaster,** waiting to happen. _

* * *

**::The Author's Corner::**

Because after a couple months off, it's only right I come back with... all the things. XD

Either the next chapter is gonna be double-long and be the last one, or there's gonna be two more chapters. I haven't decided yet.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	21. Re-Homed

**:: Mutual Cat Daddies – Re-Homed::**

"I don't know why you wanna go back out there, Douchebag."

Dee was _not_ having a good weekend. Perhaps better than _last_ weekend, what with the kidnappings and the fire and the _piss,_ but part of her would very much trade the growing storm at her house for the chaos that had characterized last weekend.

Her parents had continued on as planned, contacting family members and letting them know that they were alive, well, and holding a Thanksgiving celebration with an open door. In doing so, Dee found out that her father had siblings; specifically, a pair of older sisters. Even better [or worse], said sisters lived in Colorado, just a couple counties over, and the moment they became aware that their _dear baby brother_ was still alive an kicking... well, a visit was organized, one which included spouses and children.

Dee had come home that Friday to discover four additional adults she was unfamiliar with, paling around with her father while no less than _seven_ kids ran about the house, screaming, rough-housing, and doing everything little kids did... namely, getting into her room and whacking each-other with _her_ LARPing equipment. Once that indignity was under control, she found herself with two boys of the group, aged approximately seven and eight, who _wailed_ in a manner comparable to Cartman crying for his mother when they found out her PS4 was password protected, so they couldn't simply use it without her permission.

The fact that they were her cousins did not encourage her. She didn't trust them near _any_ of her things, and a pointed look at her father got her permission to _lock_ her room, as well as the basement, to keep it off-limits from the destructive force that was _seven kids_ ranging in age from three to nine. After that, she'd done what any self-respecting teen would do- vacated the premises so that she could go sulk with her friends rather than deal with all the _noise_ at home. She supposed it was lucky that her family's home wasn't big enough to accommodate so many guests- her aunts and their families had been force to get a hotel room, so they weren't spending the nights at her house. She at least got to go home and eat dinner in peace.

 _At least Vernice agreed to go home. If she had stayed, I woulda lost my goddamn mind._

More than ever, she was convinced that Thanksgiving was going to be a _disaster,_ but that would be next week. This week, on this particular Sunday, she'd gotten out of the house for more than just avoidance of her extended family- no, no, today she had a meeting with someone. She'd gotten an e-mail with an invitation, one that led her to where she was now- in the back of Liane Cartman's car, having a requested a ride from the woman to get where she was going. She supposed she could have engaged an Uber or otherwise, but Liane was a cheaper option.

Sadly, those savings came with a price in the form of a plus-one.

"Sweetiums, you really shouldn't call your friend names like that."

She supposed that was the deal with Liane; she was willing to help, but Cartman was always a possible part of the deal. Dee had been hoping that what she was doing would be too _boring_ for the fat sociopath.

"He likes it, _mam-_ it's a _bro_ thing. You wouldn't understand." Eric explained, sharing the back seat with Dee instead of sitting up front.

 _You didn't have to come, asshole. You weren't invited. You **asked** to be here. _

"If you say so... here we are."

The car bounced slightly as it left the highway, turning onto the unpaved country road. Dee expected the vehicle to stop- no doubt the property gate would be closed again, right? But instead, they kept going, and Dee spied the open gate as they drove past it... as well as the burnt up trees that had remained standing after the fire.

" _Oh, my,_ it's..." Liane marveled.

 _A disaster?_ Was Dee's thought as she leaned up to peer out the front window, but that wasn't the case. In fact, despite the woods around the area having clearly suffered a wildfire, the cabin at the center of it all... had been rebuilt? Dee had to blink. It looked as if someone had _scooped out_ the rustic cabin that had been there before and replaced it with a better kept one. One that was cozy, not creepy; but that might have been a factor of seeing the place in daylight. Either way, the snow pack certainly showed evidence of heavy equipment having been in the area- dirty treads were everywhere, and there was a practically new dwelling to show for it.

 _That's fast. The owner must have cashed in on the insurance._

"So charming! I wouldn't mind renting a place like this to go on a little weekend vacation... marshmallows, campfire, ghost stories... would you and your little friends like to do that sometime, shnookums?" Liane completed her thought, turning slightly to address her son in the back.

"We're not little anymore, _mam,_ camp-outs with parents are _gay."_

 _If your mother weren't here, I'd sucker punch you in the kidney._ Dee didn't even wait to see how this conversation was going to go. Liane had stopped the car, so she unbuckled and got out. As she exited the vehicle, she noticed another one parked near the treeline- a black compact. Nothing special, nor particularly shitty... just _there,_ with a spattering of road salt on the front bumper and around the wheel wells. _… here's guessing that's **her** car. Or her rental, seeing as she's just here temporarily. _

"Whoa, Douchebag, where are you going?!"

The other door opened, and Cartman hustled out, no doubt fearful of being left behind. Or incensed. Either way, he scrambled to meet Dee at the front of his mother's car, not noticing the perfectly intact cabin until nearly smacking into Dee due to the icy drive.

" _What the...?_ Didn't we blow this place up?"

 _Technically Amelia blew the place up. We were just inside it._

Dee shrugged, taking the lead and heading for the door. She was the one who was invited, after all.

"I'll keep the car warm!" Liane called from behind, remaining in the vehicle. Cartman didn't look back to thank her.

The closer they got to the cabin, the more it was obviously new construction. Fresh timbers, untouched by the elements, brand new jet-black roof shingles, and a freshly poured block of cement steps going up to the front door... which still had the manufacturer's sticker on the window. There was also a doorbell, now, which played chimes when the button was poked rather than the classic _ding-dong._

 _Classy._

The door opened quickly, and a woman stood in the open portal. An adult, though she was not particularly tall. In fact, if one factored in the black heeled boots, she was probably kinda short. She wore slacks, a navy blue turtleneck, and a white button-down that was left open. She had brown hair, and while the bangs laid straight over her forehead, that was evidenced to be the work of an iron; the longer locks in the rear laid in vaguely organized waves.

In her glance up and down, Dee noticed the woman had a brown leather leg holster on her left thigh. She was armed.

 _Doctor Kartwright, in the flesh._

She'd expected to meet the woman sooner or later after Kenny told her that she'd come to South Park, but... this wasn't quite what she expected. Strange, considering they'd technically met before... but the version of Dee who had met the doctor was dead, and her memories were things that filtered through in dreaming haze. For some reason she'd imagined someone _older,_ possibly with a more hard-bitten face. Kartwright wore a professional expression, plenty serious, but her features were rounder with only the very beginnings of stress lines beginning to sink in around her eyes. She had a strong jaw, and a no-nonsense gaze that addressed the kids at her door within a heartbeat.

"Dee, I presume." The woman greeted. "And... a friend?"

 _Something like that._

"Sorry to make you come out here to me," She apologized, wasting no time as she made a smart turn back into the dwelling, "But I've been busy getting this place... livable. Come in." The layout had been changed, more open than the cabin that had existed before. The kitchen and living area were now one, without a wall in the middle. The fireplace in the living room had been restored, but it was an _electric_ fireplace instead of a brick and mortar one. All the furniture was new, but cheap- a futon, several plastic fold-out tables, metal folding chairs. It looked like things bought on a collage student's budget, and did not at all match the rural charm of the cabin itself. "A few strings pulled with the right people rushed the property owner's insurance pay-out, and getting the cabin rebuilt; in return he's letting me rent the place at a discount while I'm here. Better rates than a hotel, that much is for fuckin' sure."

"Douchebag, who the fuck is this bitch?" Cartman quested as he shut the door behind himself, keeping the cold out.

Kartwright, who had rushed over to a fold-out table that appeared to be holding an old-fashioned chemistry set, a fancy microscope, and a truly massive pile of papers and were mimicking the leaning tower of Pisa, looked back at Cartman just as she lifted a file with the same heft as a textbook into her arms. "This _bitch_ is your best fucking friend if you are who I think you are- Eric Cartman, correct?"

"Whoa, dude, you told this chick about me?" Cartman looked to Dee, not Kartwright, with raised eyebrows as he tried to get a handle on what was going on. "You better not be spreading shit about me behind my back."

"On the contrary, I played a part in the machinations to get the President to come to South Park, which I understand resulted in a rather _lucrative_ deal for you." Kartwright corrected, refusing to be ignored as she stepped over to Dee, presenting the large folder. Dee took it- it was the reason she was here. The file on her parents, from the time they were held by the government and _studied._

As Kartwright handed it over, she noticed the woman's right hand. There was a scar on the back of it, a sort of lumpy and misshapen splotch that laid over the entire back of her hand; a burn scar? It looked nasty, whatever it was.

Cartman finally stopped trying to talk past the doctor, addressing her directly. " _Oh!_ So _you're_ one of the people I have to thank for a _trust fund_ I can't touch until I'm eighteen? Yeah, thanks a _lot!_ I can't even just _murder my mam_ to get at it- control would pass to my next legal guardian. Who the fuck comes up with that shit? I was gonna fill an Olympic Pool with KFC gravy."

The woman blinked, eyebrows raising up beneath the edge of her bangs for a moment as her lips formed a small 'o' before resolving into a flat line, shaking her head. "... what a loss for us all." She sarcastically lamented. "I didn't write your deal, kid, I just passed some information to help it happen. And now I'm passing _this_ onto _you."_ She turned to address Dee again. "It's not the full file, but I came to South Park in a hurry. The rest is getting sent along soon; this is the observational _summary_ on your parents during the time the Agency had them."

Dee nodded- though she was little surprised. This thing was just the overview? It was heavy enough to _beat a goat to death._ How much data was coming?

"Which leaves one other matter on the table." Kartwright announced, moving back into the main area of the cabin- particularly towards the futon which was pretending to be a couch at the moment, having a frame that could fold between being a couch and being a bed. It was placed with its back to the door, and the doctor drummed her fingers on the top of it for a second... until a cat suddenly jumped up to pounce on said fingertips.

A familiar cat. Dee jerked back. It was the one that sprayed her after she'd rescued Amelia from the fire.

"Take it easy, kid." Kartwright advised, turning and crossing her arms below her bust. "... Amelia got picked up by the Agency again- there was nothing I could do. She went quietly, but she begged me to find a place for her cat- apparently this one is special to her. Now, I'm shipping _my_ cat here from Atlanta, and she doesn't get along well with others, so I can't keep him. Choices are I _find_ a home for him, or I hand him off to a shelter and hope they re-home him instead of putting him down. I figured you might know a family in need of a new pet."

"Yeah, _his."_ Cartman interjected. "Maybe you'd be less of a jackass if you had a pet, eh Douchebag?"

Dee snapped a look to Cartman. _That cat fucking sprayed my face, I am not taking it in. And what would my parents think? I only managed to explain to them what **actually** happened a couple nights ago- bringing home a cat might make them suspect I'm lying. _

" _What?_ You helped me be a good cat-dad, so you'll _obviously_ do great at it yourself! We can be kitty buddies!"

That _tone._ She knew that tone with Cartman. He'd attached himself to an idea, and he wasn't going to let it go. In this case, the idea that she was going to adopt this gigantic, fluffy, _face-spraying monster._

Worse, he'd attached himself to the idea that they were going to be _friends_ by way of being _cat-owners._

"It makes sense, after everything we went through." Cartman decided, looking to Kartwright. "He'll take great care of him, he nearly _killed_ himself helping me get my cat back from that crazy lady."

 _Only because you were a moron who couldn't stick to a plan._

"That's... dedication." Kartwright sounded hesitant, but accepted it nonetheless. "I'll get his carrier and pack him up. You'll probably want to take him straight to the vet and register him under a new name; if the police get wind that it's Amelia's cat, they'll be obligated to put him down. I can give you kids some cash for the registration."

"You're a _saint."_ Cartman praised, with a smile that made Dee realize she was about to lose the rest of her afternoon to this fucker... and his insistence that she be a cat parent.

 _Hurrah._

* * *

Thanksgiving day.

The house was bursting. Dad's sisters were back, and it turned out Mom had a younger brother who came with three kids of his own- bringing the total of cousins in the house to _ten._ Vernice had returned, taking residence on the couch with her cane and swinging it whenever a kid near her got too rowdy, which had made her the guardian of the _snacks_ that were spread out on the coffee table. It appeared she was a widow; no mention had been made of her husband, and no man accompanied her- the couch further filled with two more elders; Dad's parents, alive and well, and appearing to be of a _rounder_ sort than Vernice. It appeared the love of food ran in that side of the family. Adding the McCormicks, who had arrived with a case of beer rather than food, and the Stotchs, who had come with some manner of hot-dish, and the grand total of people in the house ended up at _twenty eight,_ with a total of four family dogs running around in the fenced back yard as not to make a nuisance of themselves.

Dee had taken refuge in her room, entirely intent on _not coming out_ for anything... a goal that ended up being assisted by a new cat she'd not at all planned on having. Her parents hadn't been particularly _happy_ about the addition to the family, but they had been too busy to really fight it, what with the run up to _this day_ being the priority... and while she knew they hoped she'd socialize with the family, neither of them could argue with the fact that the new pet would need supervision and care while the house was so noisy and full of strangers. So, despite having been entirely _against_ the animal at first, Dee found herself embracing her new feline friend for the safe haven it afforded her now- where her cousins were on the other side of a _locked door_ and she had the right not to be bothered.

Now if only he hadn't been registered with such a _stupid name._ She supposed that's what she got for having Cartman along- he did all the talking and didn't let her fill out any of the forms, his mother letting him do so. Before she knew it, she not only had been signed up to be a cat parent, but the parent of one _Cartman Junior._

The cat was pretty sedate, it appeared... if clumsy. He fell off of things at a near constant rate, but never seemed to get hurt. Most common was losing his footing while toeing the edge of her bedspread. He'd line himself up like a tightrope walker, tail in the air and the very picture of grace... only for a paw to slide off and to tumble down to the floor.

She'd actually grown to find his antics funny; the cat didn't show any of the aggression it did before. She didn't want to overthink it, but maybe Amelia had instructed the animal to be kind to whomever took him in? She had no idea... and today was home to too much personal anxiety to worry too hard about what Amelia did or didn't tell her cat to do before being taken away by 'The Agency' as Kartwright called them.

Dee had made a decision for today, once she'd been given the guarantee that she'd be allowed to stay up in her room until the meal was served. One that had nothing to do with her family and everything to do with her friends... more specifically, Butters. She'd texted Kenny her decision the night before, as well as how she intended to carry it out, and he had agreed to her plan... but that didn't make her any less worried about it. She wanted to _hope_ that everything would be okay, that doing this would give her a little more freedom to be herself around the people she trusted and liked the most, but there was always that part of her brain that was _convinced_ that this would be the step too far, that _this_ would be the move that made everything go to shit.

She needed to keep it together.

She got a text when the guys arrived with their families, and she shot one back instructing them to come up to her room. A soft knock, not one of the thrashing ones that was her cousins trying to force their way in by sheer power of _annoyance, signaled_ her to unlock and open the door, but she hesitated.

Opening the door was scary right now, dressed the way she was. Most would think nothing of it if they saw her on the street- her usual baggy jeans, a T-shirt, nothing too terribly interesting if a stranger were to look at her.

Someone who wasn't a stranger might be shocked, however, as she'd skipped the binder and opted for a bra.

She wanted Butters to be the next person who knew the truth. The whole truth.

She swallowed, and opened the door.

 _ **~Fin**_

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

Dee's got a new cat, there's a mysterious science lab somewhere near South Park, the Doc is hanging around for a while, and Butters is about to find out all the things. _LOOKS LIKE A GOOD PLACE TO END A STORY TO ME._

C'mon guys, you know I gotta give ya something to come back to the next installment for.

Speaking of, this is usually where I tell y'all the _name_ of the next installment, but I need to go back over my story notes and edit a few things before I move ahead. There will be another NKS, and I know _mostly_ what it's gonna be about, but I may need to rework a few things... and the title. As usual, expect a break between stories as I get my shit together, add me to your Author Alert so you know when I post the next one, review to tell me how much you love [or hate] me, and maybe pop by the Tumblr to see all the random shit I draw of my favorite South Park dorks and my fluffy bitch OC.

 _See you next time my friends!_

 _-Buttlord_


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